


Inextricable

by canarynoir



Series: Fullmetal Alchemist: Inextricable AU [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:31:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canarynoir/pseuds/canarynoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed tries to figure out what to do with his life after succeeding in restoring Al to his own body; Winry is struggling with the big "what next?" question, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departure

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in a divergent future from episode 27 of the original anime, but I do use incidents that take place after that episode, though I often am changing their meaning. Anything that happens after episode 27 that I do reference is my own interpretation/timeline/Alternate Universe spin on things. As for the setting, it does technically take place after "Conqueror of Shamballa," but I have my own ideas for that entire portion of the story; it may seem similar to the canon, but I pretty much made it all up to suit myself. So, if someone who dies after episode 27 is alive in my story, or vice versa, that’s just the way my universe works.

It had been Al's decision to leave, and Ed had only ever wanted Al to be happy, so he didn't argue with him about it. He did everything he could to help, in fact. He'd booked their train tickets so colleges could be visited and programs evaluated. He'd asked a _favor_ of that bastard Roy Mustang and nagged Izumi Sensei in order to get the needed letters of recommendation to present to the colleges where Al had ultimately chosen to apply. And once accepted to the prestigious University of Hoyle , he'd helped Al pack. 

“Hoyle isn't that far away,” Al said for the third time as they stood on the platform, waiting for the train. 

It wasn't that far, true. Ed could easily make the trip in a morning and be back in Central by evening with several hours in between trips to spend with Al. 

But Al wasn't going to have much time to spend on anything but his studies for the foreseeable future. 

“I just want you to be careful, Al,” Ed said, muttering it because he'd already said the words too many times and even he knew it was getting annoying. “I know people do it, but it's a dangerous balance.” 

“Dr. Marcoh managed,” Al said with a little, uncomfortable shrug. Ed could almost see the great, hulking suit of armor that no longer encased his younger brother's soul. How he'd managed to convey so much in that expressionless, metal prison, Ed never figured out. But sometimes in the secret, dark reaches of his own soul, he missed the reassuring presence of that armor. 

“I know,” Ed said. He sighed, wishing he weren't such a big-mouthed hot-head. “I know, and I'm really proud of you, Al,” Ed admitted. “I'm the one who'd screw it up. _You're_ going to be great. You're going to be the best alchemic surgeon ever. I know you will.” 

Al turned to look at his brother, his eyes brimming. He seemed too young to be going off to college. Far too young to have gone through what he'd already gone through in his life. He _was_ a little too young, physically, though, at twenty, he was actually a little old to be just starting college. No one had to know that, though, any more than they had to know he was an Elric. 

They'd lived so much of their lives in train stations that all of the noise, announcements, whistles and chaos surrounding the arrival of Al's train had gone by them unnoticed until the porter Ed had hired to help with Al's bags indicated it was time to board. 

Ed looked up into his brother's tear-filled eyes and gave him a reassuring wink. Somewhere along the road, he'd accepted being short as he'd accepted his automail. _It is equivalent exchange, even for just this moment_ , he thought. It was worth everything to see Al happy and living his own life. Even if the ungrateful brat had to be tall. 

“Thank Gracia again for me, Niisan,” Al said. “It's... it isn't that I'm ashamed. You do understand—?” 

“Don't worry about it, Al. I don't want to have to explain my name to everyone, either, but I'm kind of stuck with it. Alphonse Hughes is a perfectly acceptable alias. I wish I could be Edward Hughes. But it fits you better. You're like him in a lot of ways, you know?” 

“Niisan,” Al breathed, sounding stunned. They both quietly thought of Maes Hughes as the ideal father, even if he had been a bit overboard on the pictures. 

“He'd be really proud of you, too, Al. Gracia said to say so, but I know she's right—” The train whistle interrupted him, sounding the long blast that indicated it was getting ready to leave. “Get going, now. Don't want to be late.” 

Al caught him in a rib-crushing hug, reminding Ed once more of the armor. He then inhaled deeply to disguise a big sniffing-back of his unshed tears, gave a firm nod, and ran for the train. 

Ed didn't think he would ever get used to the empty space left by Al's absence. But as that absence was due to Al's desire to figure out his own life — now that he had his body back and a life of his own to lead — Ed would have to endure. 

He waved to Al as the train pulled away and kept waving a little too long, even after there was no way Al could still have seen him. He didn't care if he looked foolish. Somewhere along the road, he'd stopped worrying about that, too. 

Scieszka waited outside the station, reading a book. She looked up as Ed approached. “Ready to go?” he asked, forcing a smile. 

She stood up, gathering her things. “Yessir! Ready when you are. Are you okay?” Somehow, in the confusion of his return and reintegration into the military hierarchy at Central, he'd ended up with an assistant. At first, he'd been appalled at the idea. And then he'd found out who he'd been assigned and stopped fighting it. Any researcher would kill for an assistant like Scieszka. 

“I'm fine,” he replied. He was in civilian dress with a plain, navy blue coat in place of his usual red. In uniform or his preferred red coat, he was far too identifiable these days. Fame was okay, up to a point, but when everyone started knowing what you looked like, it messed everything up. 

“Let's grab coffee before we go back,” Scieszka suggested. “The Lieutenant Colonel's going to want you to catch up on your paperwork.” 

“Coffee and something to eat, then,” Ed agreed. Her car stood nearby but they walked past it to a small coffee shop Ed knew very well. _Too well_ , he thought as several pairs of eyes stared at him and voices whispered loudly. He heard “Elric” and “Fullmetal” several times from several sources. Scieszka shot him a sidelong glance but said nothing, and he pretended not to have heard. 

He held their cups of coffee and bag of pastries as Scieszka pulled out into the midmorning traffic. He'd never learned to drive — something Mustang had said was a rare blessing — and he thought idly of asking Havoc to teach him sometime. 

Scieszka let him out at the main doors and drove around to park. He'd reached his office and was juggling the coffees while trying to get the door when the Lt. Colonel appeared. 

“Good morning, Fullmetal,” she said, nodding. She waved away his near-disastrous attempt at a return gesture and deftly rescued one of the coffees. “Lucky you didn't crush that,” she commented. 

He gave her a crooked smile and said, “'Morning, ma'am.” Riza Hawkeye made an excellent commanding officer. He'd never yet wanted to kill her. Brigadier General Mustang was another matter entirely. 

“Is Alphonse settled?” she asked, following him into his office. 

Ed nodded, setting his coffee and the pastry bag down with care. Riza set the other cup down beside the first. “He's off to Hoyle at last.” 

“Good. Then you can concentrate on catching up on your paperwork. I want things to be in good order before you go out into the field again.” 

This was her threat and promise. If he managed to write up and organize all of his reports and notes — many of them from years before when he'd been on the move so continuously that he'd stopped filing reports altogether — then she would put him back on active duty as a field agent. Until then, he was stuck on desk duty. 

This arrangement had been fine while he'd been overseeing Al's preparations for college. Now, only the benefit of his research privileges and the expectation that he'd make use of them kept him from protesting the stricture. And he was tired. It was nice to have an excuse to indulge his weariness for once. 

After spending the rest of the day half-buried in paper, he dismissed Scieszka early and left right on time, himself. The walk from Central HQ to Gracia Hughes' house was far enough to be called exercise, and he arrived feeling more awake than he had in hours and ready to eat. 

“Ed-niisan!” Elysia cried, tackling him with an enthusiastic hug as if they had not just seen each other that morning. 

He followed Elysia into the house, falling at once into the habits he and Al had developed as frequent visitors. He sliced bread for the meal and set the table, asking about Gracia's day and listening as she related the latest Elysia story while the girl alternately protested and added details. 

By the time he was hauling a bag of trash out to the incinerator, it was very late. _Where does the time go_? he wondered. It always seemed to fly by so quickly when he was with the Hughes family. 

Gracia had made up the couch again when he came back in, and he accepted the offer as wordlessly as it had been made. The couch was practically his, anyway — Al always preferred making a nest of pillows on the floor. Lately, they'd stayed here more often than the dorm, and the dorm was supposed to be temporary. Staying here was supposed to be temporary, too. _My whole life is still full of temporary things, even these days..._

“Oh, I forgot,” Gracia said, and she disappeared into the front room for a moment, returning with an envelope in her hand. “This came for you today.” 

“It came here?” Ed asked, frowning as he took it from her. 

“It's from Winry,” Gracia explained. “It was in with a letter to me, to save a stamp.” 

Ed smiled and opened it. He read through the letter quickly, muttering half to himself. “She's coming to Central for a visit, week after next. Geez, Hawkeye's gonna kill me if I ask for time off again so soon.” 

“Elysia and I can entertain her when you're working. It'll be fine. I think she just wants to get out of Rizembool for awhile. She sounds a little depressed.” 

Shrugging, Ed said, “I wish I were in a better mood to help cheer her up. I hope we don't drag each other into a pit of despair.” 

Gracia laughed and ruffled his hair as if he were Elysia's age. “If I thought that would happen, I'd tell her to stay home! You two will be fine once you see each other. It'll be good for you both.” 

He took a quick, mental inventory of his automail. It should be fine, for once, and give Winry no reason to yell at him or whack him with a wrench. “Yeah, you're right. It'll be good.” 


	2. Confessional

Winry stood beside Trisha Elric's grave and wondered what to say. Her own parents had died so far away and so long ago. Her shameful secret was that she didn't remember them very well. A bit of laughter here. A smile and a hug there. All good memories, but distant and vague. 

Trisha Elric she remembered, and it had been to her grave Winry had gone during all the long years she'd waited for Edward and Alphonse to finish their mad quest and come back home. When she'd followed them on their quest, she'd stopped first here to say goodbye and explain what she planned to do. 

Now none of them were going to be here to visit Trisha, and she was afraid to ask her grandmother to take up the ritual. Pinako made occasional visits to the graveyard to put flowers on her son's and daughter-in-law's graves, but these visits were in memoriam, not in communion. _She'd do that, though, at least. Flowers are better than no visits at all._

“I'm going to Central,” she told Trisha, her voice a bit high with nerves. “Grannie is taking on a new apprentice, and she said it's time I set up my own shop.” She gave a little laugh, remembering the conversation and the feeling of almost-betrayal that had gone through her at the thought of some other automail-mad youngster taking her place at Pinako's side. 

“In Central, I can get more medical training, too,” she continued. “So I can be of more use during installations. Grannie said there's only so much you can learn about that during apprenticeship. There aren't a lot of automail shops in Central...” Even though that's where the military hospital was. It was odd. Everyone healed up and went to Rush Valley, she supposed. But some came back; some stayed in the military; they'd need a mechanic. _Ed needs a mechanic._

“Don't worry, though. I have money. Mother and Father were big savers and there was... after Ishbal...” She'd learned about that later. About Ishbal and what had really happened there. And about the settlement Grannie had eventually convinced the military to pay. “There's plenty of money,” she finished, a bit lamely, she felt. But Trisha didn't need to know about what had happened more recently at Ishbal. 

“There's enough to set up my own shop and get the business started. I'd hate to ask, but maybe Ed would even let me say I'm his mechanic. That would have to be good for business. Do you think he'd mind?” 

Ed was famous or infamous or both, depending on who you talked to. Those who were afraid of him made Winry incredibly angry. Ed had only ever tried to help people. He'd taken the vow, “be thou for the people,” so seriously. It wasn't his fault if the military messed things up sometimes. 

“The train leaves in the morning, so I'll see Ed tomorrow. Al's in Hoyle now. I told you that, didn't I? That he's going to school to be a doctor? That's just so like him, isn't it? To want to help people. Just like his niisan.” 

_“Ed seems lost,”_ the letter from Gracia had said. _“I'm not sure what to do to help him. He won't talk about what happened.”_

Winry felt lost, too. She'd always thought Ed and Al would come home after they'd achieved their goal. She knew, now, that this had been a naïve dream — a belief with no basis in reality. Ed had never talked about coming back to stay. “I mean, he burned the house down!” she exclaimed, then turned shocked eyes on the gravestone. She'd never told Trisha about that. 

“I should have told you that ages ago,” she breathed. “They didn't want the past pulling them back from their goal. Ed was so determined to save Al. To get his body back. He was so, so sorry about what happened when they tried...” 

Sorry wasn't a big enough word to encompass what Ed felt about his failed attempt at human alchemy. Winry feared nothing would ever be enough. He'd achieved his goal, he'd saved Al, and he'd paid a colossal price to do it. _It should be enough! Why doesn't he believe it's enough?_

It bothered Winry that Ed stayed in the military. She knew it upset Pinako, too. “He's the one who should go to Hoyle,” the woman had growled upon hearing the news. “With his genius, he could teach the next generation instead of staying a dog of the military.” 

“Do you think that someday he'll stop doing penance?” she asked in a whisper. “Do you think that someday he might let himself be happy?” 

Trisha didn't reply, but this was part of the reason Winry talked to her. Sometimes just asking the hard questions was enough. Once she knew what the questions were, she could figure out the answers. 

She knelt down and plucked a few leaves from the gravestone before setting down the flowers she'd brought. “Your favorites,” she whispered. “I'll see you next time I'm in Rizembool. You know Grannie won't let me go too long between visits.” 

The sun was disappearing over the horizon as she came in the kitchen door, but Pinako didn't comment on her long absence. They ate supper in near-silence, and Winry excused herself early to finish packing. She'd packed trunks-full of things, but at first she'd only have a large and a small suitcase. She wanted to tell Ed in person what she planned. 

Den pad-clanked into Winry's room and threw herself down onto the floor with a loud “whuff.” Winry knelt beside her and scratched her ears and was rewarded with the dog's closed-eyed expression of bliss. She'd miss her, but she needed to go. She needed to find her own life now. They'd all been trying for so long to fix the past. “Al's looking for his future, Den,” she said. “It's time Ed and I did, too.”


	3. Bloody Circle

Ed had stumbled halfway to the front door when his sleep-muffled brain suggested that the furious pounding might not be an urgent summons but an attack. He shook himself awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and braced his automail foot against the door to allow it to open only so far. 

“Yes?” he asked, his voice cracking a little from sleep. 

“Ed- er, Major?” 

_Ah. It's only Denny._ “Hello, Sergeant Major. What's going on?” Ed opened the door so he could see Sgt. Mjr. Brosh more clearly. _When did I start thinking of him as young?_ It had to be two or three in the morning. A ridiculous hour to be bothered unless something serious had happened. 

“Lt. Col. Hawkeye sent me to get you. There's been an incident.” Denny's face was pale, and he looked a bit sick. Whatever had happened, he'd apparently witnessed at least some of it. 

_This did have to happen today of all days,_ Ed thought, but he pushed back the ungracious thought. This was what they paid him to do, after all. But Winry was still going to kill him if he didn't meet her train. “Give me a minute, okay?” Denny nodded and Ed closed the door. Gracia-san appeared as he was pulling on his usual red coat. 

“Shouldn't you be in uniform?” Gracia-san asked. She looked even sleepier than he felt, and he hoped Denny's overzealous knocking hadn't awoken Elysia, too. 

“Hawkeye doesn't mind. I think it's at the dorm, anyway.” His hair hung around his face, half-tangled from sleep. He reached back and finger-combed it into submission, twisting a band around it to make a quick pony-tail. “Do I look official enough?” 

A sad smile flickered across her face and was gone too quickly. Ed almost thought he'd imagined it. “You look fine, Ed-kun,” she said, reaching out and straightening his collar. 

“Hey, if I'm not back in time to—” he began. 

“Don't worry,” Gracia-san said. “Elysia and I will be at the station to meet Winry, with or without you.” 

Denny stood beside the car, waiting to open the door for him. It was odd to see him without Maria Ross. Ed wondered where she was, but, instead he asked about the incident. “Anything you can tell me about what I'm going to find?” 

“The Lieutenant Colonel didn't want me to say anything, sir,” Denny apologized. “I think she wants you to see the scene with no preconceived notions.” They fell into silence then, and Edward's thoughts turned to analyzing the changes that had taken place while he'd been away. 

Hawkeye was in charge of investigations, running Hughes' old department. Edward had been assigned there because, Mustang had said, “you have a gift for uncovering the hidden.” Ed was pretty sure there'd been some kind of insult embedded in that apparent compliment, but he hadn't figured out what it was yet. 

Hawkeye had kept Fuery and Falman under her immediate command; the rest of the gang worked out of Mustang's office. Mustang was still Hawkeye's direct superior, but the dynamics had all changed with this necessary separation. Havoc now acted as Mustang's right hand. It all seemed very odd to Edward who had, he supposed, expected everything to have stayed the same. Adjusting to how very different every last thing now was took more effort than he often had the will to exert. 

But the changes weren't necessarily unpleasant. With all that had happened at the end of the war, the military had gone through a dramatic upheaval. One of the happier results of this was Hawkeye's spectacular rise in the ranks. But competent officers had been a bit thin on the ground, and she wasn't the only one who'd benefited from that. Havoc and Ross were both captains now; Falman had been promoted up the ranks to 2 nd lieutenant. Everyone from Mustang's and Hughes' old commands seemed to have been rewarded somehow. 

_But I'm still a major..._ Not that he'd been around to be promoted. He wasn't even certain he wanted to be, even though he had chosen to stay in the military. _Better the devil you know._ The simple truth was that he'd needed the money and hadn't wanted to lose access to the military's vast and unique research resources. The complicated truth was... much more complicated. 

The car slowed and Ed looked out at a scene of bedlam. Military and civilian police vehicles were strewn around chaotically, as if everyone had just pulled up to the edge of the mess, stopped, and dashed off leaving their cars still running. Lights flashed red and blue and gold, and noise and smoke and dust roiled all around. Whatever had happened, it had been big. 

Denny pulled the door open for him just as he'd been reaching for the handle, and he gathered his wits, wishing he'd had time for a coffee first. As he climbed from the car, Maria Ross appeared out of the haze and saluted. He returned the salute, trying to make his as crisp and professional as hers. He felt foolish but quashed any sign of this from reaching his face. 

“Major Elric. This way, please.” He hadn't seen her in ages, but this wasn't the time for a heartfelt reunion. She'd saved his life more than once, and he'd had a bit of a crush on her ever since she'd slapped him in the hospital. There was probably something really twisted about that, but he had no intention of sharing this bit of information with any psychiatrists anytime soon. 

He followed in her wake as she marched through the mess without so much as a flicker of hesitation. Edward could see the shining gold of Hawkeye's hair and, beside her, the darker shadow of — _Shit. He's here._

“Ah, Fullmetal,” Mustang called. “Good of you to join us. This should be right up your alley.” 

Edward glanced at the darkened alley just behind the general and scowled. If this was some nasty reference to previous incidents involving Scar or Tucker, Ed didn't want to acknowledge he'd understood. _Bastard_ , he thought, saluting as he forced his face into some semblance of professional neutrality. Hawkeye raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

“What's happened, sirs?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets now that all the saluting and crap was out of the way. 

“You tell us,” Mustang said, waving a hand at the alley. Hawkeye, still silent, glanced sideways at her superior officer then inclined her head slightly to hide the wink from him. Edward nearly barked a laugh at this tiny mutiny, but instead gave a nod and walked into the alley, taking a lantern proffered by Denny. 

At least it wasn't raining as it so often seemed to do on nights like this in Central. He caught the smell of blood and closed his eyes at the rush of memory. Blood and darkness and loss in an alley. Helplessness washed over him as the memory of that first alley filled his mind. 

The scene that revealed itself in the lamplight, however, wiped away the memory completely. Location and blood aside, this crime bore no resemblance to what had happened to Nina Tucker. 

There was no doubt in his mind that this had been human alchemy, but he couldn't imagine what the insane alchemist had been trying to accomplish. _Why here? Why an alley and not a locked room... some controlled environment?_ The blood-spattered circle had been drawn on the wall, complicated and manic but clearly rendered. It had taken time. This had been deliberate. Not the work of someone acting in the moment. 

He looked at the victim more closely now, trying to see the person who'd been ripped apart by the alchemic reaction. _A failed chimera._ A spectacular failure. Nothing living had come from this, unlike his own spectacular failure that had set his life in motion so many years ago. _No homunculus will come from this._ He almost added “thank God,” before remembering he was agnostic. 

From the remnants of fabric and strands of hair strewn around the scene, Ed surmised the victim to have been a woman. One shoe was mostly intact. Pretty and impractical. Probably a younger woman. There were large chunks of fur, too. Blood-soaked but still identifiable. He made a face as he recognized the animal. That in itself was a clue. Not just anyone could get access to a hyena, let alone bring one into an alley in the middle of Central without causing an entirely different sort of scene. 

_But what the hell was this madman — or madwoman — trying to accomplish?_ What on earth could be the use of a human/hyena hybrid? He ran through what he know of the breed. Alpha females led packs. They were considered one of the most intelligent and effective predator species. _Nothing good,_ Ed answered himself. Anyone trying to create a human hyena — aside from the simple fact that he or she _was_ trying to do such a thing in the first place — could only be up to more mayhem. 

He spent some more time looking for further clues and making notes as well as copying the circle into his notebook to study later. He could hear the mutter of voices from the far end of the alley with the occasional clear few words sounding. Hawkeye was keeping everyone out, allowing him time to examine the scene undisturbed. 

The sky was turning light at the edges as he walked back out of the alley, and it amused him to see Mustang's own exhaustion revealed by the dawn, especially as it contrasted so starkly with Hawkeye's crisp, professional, wide-awake façade. 

“It isn't good,” he said without preamble. 

“Could you tell what that thing was supposed to be?” Mustang asked, his exhaustion toning down his attitude to a bearable level. 

“Hyena chimera. Nasty. This was a failure, but there was too much premeditation going on to hope that this was a one-off,” Ed replied. 

“So whoever did this survived?” Mustang asked. 

Ed frowned and glanced back down the alley. Had he missed something? Had Mustang even looked at the scene? _Or are they testing me, still. Making sure I haven't lost my edge._

“The alchemist is long gone. His victims are the only things down there now. And the circle he used. That's a pretty good clue. I can have Scieszka run with that — see if she can find any connections to known alchemists?” 

Hawkeye nodded at this. “You're certain it's a male alchemist?” 

Ed's instinct said yes, but he had no proof. “No, I'm not certain, but we have to call ‘em something.” 

“Alchemist X, then,” Mustang said lightly. He seemed already to be mentally withdrawing from the scene. He and Hawkeye carried on one of their rather famous silent conversations as Ed waited, ending it with a nod from Mustang and a slight lifting of chin from Hawkeye. 

“Fine,” Hawkeye said, taking charge. “Fullmetal, this is your case. Lieutenant Falman will assist you with any resources you need to pursue your investigation, and I'm seconding Captain Ross and her staff to you for the duration. Keep me apprised of your progress.” 

Surprised, Edward saluted. Hawkeye and Mustang returned his salute, both of them wearing faintly ironic expressions, and then they withdrew from the scene. 

_In charge? ME?! I don't run ops. I'm a solo field agent!_ The thoughts gibbered through his brain, sounding hysterical even to him, but he didn't let any of this show through. Being the Fullmetal Alchemist barely balanced out his age in most people's eyes. He couldn't afford to indulge in any dramatics. 

Maria stood nearby, awaiting orders. Ed took a moment to collect his thoughts, pulling out his pocket watch and glaring at the time. It was already almost six o'clock . “Captain,” he began, and found a smile tugging at his lips as she snapped him a sharp salute. “At ease, Capt. Ross. It's just me, remember?” 

She smiled in return, muttering, “As you wish, sir.” 

“Let the detectives in here to go over the scene and see if they can find anything we missed. I want some good pictures taken, too, before they clean things up.” Maria nodded at each item he listed, taking notes. 

“I'll have Scieszka take a look at this circle and see if she recognizes any stylistic matches. Have someone on your team run a check on unsolved cases for any similarities. And...” 

Maria looked up as he paused. He met her eyes, and hoped she knew he wasn't scowling at her. “That hyena is a big clue. Look into that. See if you can figure out where it came from and how it got here. And we need to know about the woman. There may be a connection there, or she may have been unlucky and just passed by at the wrong time. It'll make a difference, and she's our primary concern. There's some crazy alchemist out there trying to turn innocent people into bloodthirsty chimeras.” He thought of Shou Tucker and his scowl deepened. “and we're going to find him and stop him.”


	4. Intersections

Winry didn't know how Ed and Al had spent so much time on trains. They were terribly uncomfortable, and it took so long to get anywhere. The trains never seemed to run through any of the pretty parts of any of the towns they passed through, either. 

She folded up Al's last letter and tucked it back into her bag, wishing all the while that Hoyle were on the way to Central from Rizembool rather than beyond it. _I'll have to a make the trip once I'm settled._ She'd written ahead to Gracia, explaining her plans. She wanted to tell Ed in person. 

_I wonder if he'll be mad._ He might be mad, she knew. It was hard to tell how he'd react. He might not want her to be where he was or he might be glad to have someone there from his past, now that Al was away. 

Al's letters always made her smile. He would go on and on about the way things tasted or smelled or felt or _really_ looked. It broke her heart at the same time. She'd known that his armor shell cut him off from the world, but when he talked about how differently he experienced the world, the years he'd spent trapped seemed all the more cruel. _No wonder Ed was so driven._ If anyone but Al could understand what a narrow life he'd led for all of those years, it would be Ed — the one who'd made the devil's bargain to capture his brother's soul. 

She'd made the trip often enough to recognize the signs that they were almost to Central Station, and Winry found herself feeling nervous. _Silly. Even if he is mad, he'll still be glad to see you. In his own way._

Gracia's smiling face greeted her first thing. She didn't even have to look around to find that welcome. Beside her, nearly jumping up and down in her excitement, stood Elysia. 

_Where's Ed?_ Winry hadn't realized how worried she was of her welcome until she didn't see him standing beside Gracia. 

She stepped down from the train onto the platform, paying too much attention to her bag to distract herself from her worries. A strangely off-kilter galloping noise caught her attention, however, and she looked up to see Ed dashing across the platform toward her. She inhaled sharply at the sight of him, golden hair and red coat flying wildly, and she found herself moving toward him. 

# # # 

Ed knew he was late and ran from the car with a yelled, “Thanks! Be back in a minute!” at Falman. With a throat-clearing understatedness, the man had suggested that Ed could hand out assignments and take a break to meet the train — and, then perhaps, get into uniform — before returning to the investigation. 

_Oh,_ Ed had thought. _Is that how it works when you're in charge?_ But he knew, now that he considered it, that it did. Or, at least that's how Mustang had always done things. _Give everyone else stuff to do and then head out the door at_ _five o'clock_ _with a gorgeous woman on his arm._

It wasn't five o'clock , but it was late, and there were gorgeous women involved — Ed didn't want any of the three of them to be mad at him. He flashed his watch at the security guards, vaulted over the turnstiles, and ran for the platform. 

Something twisted oddly in his chest when he saw Winry standing by the train, looking down at her bag with an uncharacteristic, unhappy expression on her face. _God, I missed her._

She looked up and saw him, and her face transformed into a smile as stunning as a slap. It seemed to Ed the most natural thing in the world to open his arms to her as she ran to meet him. 

# # # 

Ed caught Winry in an embrace that wiped away any worries she had about her welcome. His whispered, “Missed you,” in her ear brought tears to her eyes. 

“Me, too,” she breathed. They pulled back from the hug, grinning at each other like they were little kids again. Gracia stood by, watching, beaming and Elysia had started to bounce in earnest. 

“Me, too! Me, too!” she exclaimed, and Winry hugged the girl tight. 

Ed saw to her bags, and they all wandered out to the cars, talking about nothing important. Gracia had driven and offered to take Winry back to the house. 

“I have a case,” Ed said, looking down at the sidewalk and scuffing a foot self-consciously as he said this. “Hawkeye put me in charge. I have to go back to the office and see how things are going. I tried, but I didn't have any time off left after getting Al ready for—” 

“Ed, it's fine,” Winry interrupted. “I dropped out of the sky on you, practically, and I have things to do now that I'm here. I don't need you — or you, Gracia — to entertain me the whole time.” 

“You can come for supper, can't you, Ed-niisan?” Elysia asked, looking plaintive. 

“Wouldn't miss it!” he replied, grinning at the girl. He turned to Winry and, for a fleeting moment, she thought he was going to hug her again. Instead, after a split-second's awkward pause, he gave her a firm nod and a rasped, “It's great you're here, Winry,” before he climbed into his car and was driven away. 

“Are you going to tell him tonight?” Gracia asked as they drove through town. 

“If it doesn't seem weird. I don't want him to feel like he has to look out for me. I can do this myself; I just want him to know and to be okay with it.” 

# # # 

Scieszka loved coffee-shop coffee which had the nice side-effect for Ed that she never felt taken advantage-of about getting coffee for him, too. She'd been on her way out for a cup when he'd made it back to the office after a brief stop-off at his dorm to clean up and change into his uniform, so he'd asked for his favorite. 

The uniform didn't feel right to him — and maybe it didn't fit right. He'd check with Gracia to see what she thought. But Falman wasn't wrong. If he was going to be officially in charge, he ought to present himself accordingly. 

He looked up from the preliminary reports that had already come back from the police detectives from the scene when Scieszka returned, announcing her presence by setting down his cup of coffee with a flourish. 

Her manner had calmed down considerably from when he'd first met her — _but then, so has mine_ — and she did a much better job of staying focused on the job at hand. Of course, Ed always appreciated the odd connections she was able to make thanks to her vast and catholic reading habits, so her fear of getting in trouble for being caught reading had receded fairly quickly as they'd worked together, too. 

But now she was standing on the other side of his desk, looking about as ready to bounce with excitement as Elysia. 

Smiling, Ed tore a page from Mustang's notebook, picked up his coffee and took a sip as he leaned back and regarded her. “Anything to report?” he asked. 

“That circle, sir,” she said. “I know where it's from.” She slapped the book down in front of him, her finger marking the page. “Right here.” 

Ed stared at the page and felt the blood drain from his face as his eyes widened in shock. _Oh, shit._


	5. Exhalations

Winry’s head was spinning as she walked out of the hospital, paperwork in hand confirming her new status as a surgical apprentice.  Who knew the Rockbell name was so powerful? She’d known her grandmother’s reputation, of course, but that it reached all the way to Central and with such authority was... surprising.

Her new sensei had known her parents, too, and she knew that this connection had been influential as well. Her parents, after all these years, had still managed to take care of her.

“You’ll just observe during the first installation surgery. I’ll quiz you to determine how much you already know and where I need to concentrate on your training,” Doctor Grantham, her new sensei, had explained. “Then you’ll start assisting.”

And Ed had helped. “Oh, you’re _his_ automail mechanic!” the doctor had exclaimed, leaning over her desk to shake Winry’s hand. “I missed meeting you on your previous visits here, but I’ve heard nothing but praise for your work. The Fullmetal Alchemist’s automail is something of a legend around here.”

She hadn’t followed-up on that with any questions. She knew Ed had been in and out of the hospital a great deal, and she’d been in and out with him on several occasions, repairing. It wasn’t just Ed’s automail that was something of a legend at Central City Hospital.

_Okay, that’s the first step taken_ , she thought. _Now to tell Ed._

\- - - - - - - - - 

“That circle, sir,” Scieszka said. “I know where it’s from.” She slapped the book down in front of Edward, her finger marking the page. “Right here.”

Ed stared at the page and felt the blood drain from his face as his eyes widened in shock. _Oh, shit._

Maria Ross pushed past Scieszka at that moment, her face as white as Ed knew his own must be. “Sir, I need to talk to you—”

“I need to talk to you, too. And you, Scieszka,” Ed interrupted, gesturing for the captain to take a seat. “You go first.”

“I found her, sir,” Ross said. “The woman in the alley. On a list of missing and unaccounted-for alchemists.”

_Oh, shit!_ “Missing for how long?”

“Three months. She’s not a state alchemist, but she’d been working for the military as a civilian researcher since before the war.”

Ed could’ve screamed. Instead, he said, “Let me guess who recruited her.”

“Sir...”

“General Basque Gran, the Iron Blood Alchemist.”

Ross looked, if possible, even more pale. She nodded. “Sir, what’s going on?”

“I can’t be certain, but I think I had what happened in the alley backwards.” _Why is this happening now? Why can’t the past just stay dead?_ “I don’t think a chimera was being created.”

“Then what...?”

“I think she was trying to _unmake_ a chimera.”

“The hyena? But—” Ross blurted.

“ _She_ was the chimera. She was trying to untangle herself from the hyena. _That’s_ why the circle was on the wall and not the ground; that’s why she was in an alley and not a lab. She may have been driven mad by the change. Probably was in a lot of pain — scared, lost, desperate.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. _It was all there. I just didn’t see it!_ “It took time to draw that circle. It may have been she stopped in the first place she found that seemed like safety and then started trying to fix what was done to her. On instinct.”

“But how did she become a chimera in the first place?” Ross asked.

It was a rhetorical question, or, at least, Ed intended to treat it that way. Instead of answering, he turned to Scieszka.  “Where did you get this book? How did it survive the library fire?”

“Uhm, are you angry?” Scieszka asked, hesitant now that he seemed more upset than delighted by her findings. 

“No,” he said reassuringly, spinning his own shock so that he wouldn’t lose precious time having to placate hurt feelings. “I’m just surprised is all. I mean, I’ve never seen this book, but—”

“I had it,” she confessed. “I’d borrowed it and then I didn’t get it back as soon as I should have and then the library burned down and then you were gone—” 

Ed closed his eyes again, wondering how he’d missed this book before Scieszka absconded with it. _It’s exactly the sort of thing I was looking for, after all..._ But even in the State Library, there were special collections. Hidden collections. _Secrets inside of secrets. Damn Gran anyway._

And here was another piece of Gran’s mad lust for power. Unbelievable that this book had ever made it into the State Library’s collection in the first place. 

One look had told him whose work it was — it was impossible to mistake the crazed, amoral theories of Shou Tucker — but _this book_ had more than just the dead alchemist’s theories explicated. It had charts, circles, and concepts, all in plain language. _So crazy, he didn’t even bother to encode his work anymore... He just spelled out the ways and means._

This was Gran all over, preserving and encouraging Shou Tucker’s amoral alchemy. Mixing and twisting anything just to see what the results would be, no matter the cost.

_Oh, God, what if this is part of some plan! What if someone’s trying to continue Gran and Tucker’s work..._

Whatever had happened to turn the dead woman into a chimera — _and it’s far too much to hope that she’s a closed loop, turning herself into a chimera and destroying herself for us_ — he had to find out and fast. 

\- - - - - - - - - 

Edward arrived late for dinner, looking exhausted. The sight of him in uniform stunned Winry into speechlessness for several moments, and it wasn’t until he’d tossed the long, blue coat aside and rolled up his shirt sleeves to help wash up the dishes after the meal that she was able to feel completely comfortable around him again.

Whatever his case was, it had already begun haunting him. She wanted to ask — to help in some way — but the grim line of his mouth and the closed inwardness of his gaze silenced her. Al would know what to say to begin the slow, careful process of prying the truth loose from Ed; all Winry felt she’d ever been able to do was start arguments.

Gracia sent Elysia off to do her homework, then made her own excuses, leaving them alone to do the washing-up. Apparently, she didn’t think that this evening was a bad time for Winry to make her announcement.

Winry brewed coffee, strong and ink-black, with no milk or sugar to cut the taste. Just the way Ed liked it. She’d also picked up a small box of Ed’s favorite cookies on her way around.

“Let’s talk, okay?” she said, as they finished up the dishes. His eyes flickered to the preparations she’d made then back to her face, and she could see him understand that she wanted to talk _about_ something, and not just talk.

“Sure,” he replied. He poured out two cups of coffee and carried them to the table, moving the cream and sugar toward Winry in silent acknowledgement of her own preferences.

_Dive right in, I guess,_ she thought. “I’m not just here for a visit, Ed.”

He took a sip of the coffee, muttering, “That’s good, thanks.” It was the closest she was likely to get to a “go on,” so she took it as encouragement.

“I’m moving here. Opening my own automail shop. I’ve arranged an apprenticeship at the hospital to help me improve my installation skills. And I’m going to start looking for someplace to open the shop tomorrow.”

Ed took another sip of his coffee, his expression even more closed than before. “Why are you doing this?” he asked after a long silence.

“It’s time,” she replied. She fiddled with her own coffee, stirring it nervously. “Granny’s taught me all she knows, and there’s no real need for two full-fledged automail mechanics in Rizembool. I can’t get the medical training I need there, either. And...”

Their eyes met, both of them shielding their feelings as best they could. _God, between the two of us, I have no idea who’d win a “most stubborn” contest,_ Winry thought. “I want to be closer to my best friend,” she finished, almost whispering the confession.

A crooked smile cracked Ed’s serious façade, and he looked away for a moment. _Is he blushing?_

“Yeah, well,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “If that’s what you want, then I’m really happy.”

“Really?” Winry asked, her eyes widening in surprise at the ease of this conversation. She’d expected yelling. Lots of yelling.

“Really. I’ve missed you, Win,” he said, grinning at her. “And I’m no good at being by myself. If there’s one thing the last couple of years taught me, it’s that I need my friends and family around, or I’m a mess.”

Winry wasn’t sure how to deal with this. Arguing and overreactions she could handle; this was something new. _What_ did _happen to Ed while he was gone?_ His hair had grown several inches, and he himself had grown a couple, but he hadn’t spoken about his lost years except, maybe, to Al. She wondered if he’d ever tell her, but whatever had happened, she knew she was seeing the results now.

Ed stood up and stretched. “Okay, then. I’m glad we talked.”

“Where are you going?” Winry asked, frowning as she, too, stood.

“I have to go back to work. This investigation’s a disaster, and I don’t want it getting any worse.  Ross and I are going to go over everything we have so far and see if we can’t find an angle.”

Winry squelched a flicker of jealousy over Ed spending time alone with another woman — okay, a motherly type, but still attractive — and nearly blushed at this reaction. 

“Denny’s going to run errands for us,” Ed continued. “Keep us supplied with coffee and all that. I think Scieszka’s still there, but you know how she gets when she’s researching.” He pulled out his pocket watch and squinted at it. “I told them I’d be back in two hours, so I have to go now.”

He picked up his coat and pulled it on, turning back into a soldier before her eyes, then turned with another crooked smile and said, “I’ll crash at the dorm tonight, but maybe we can have lunch tomorrow? You can tell me how your building search is going.”

“Sure,” Winry whispered, following him to the door. He gave a little wave and was gone, and she closed the door slowly, leaning back against it in some sort of shock. “What just happened?” she breathed.

“Looks like Ed’s grown up,” Gracia said, stepping into the room, a poorly-suppressed smile on her face.

“I just thought he’d be so upset! He always used to get so upset when I tried to help or be close to him or—”

“Things just aren’t the same anymore, Winry,” the woman explained gently. “Alphonse is okay now. Ed doesn’t have some impossible mission he’s on. He has a future. I don’t think he ever thought that would happen to him.”

In a daze, Winry walked back to the kitchen, sat down, and took a sip of her coffee. Gracia poured her own cup — eyebrows shooting up as she saw how strong it was — and sat down across the table from her.

“I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for years,” Winry said. “And he just made me realize I can let it out. If Ed feels he can breathe, now, then... anything’s possible.”


	6. Coffee Break

_How did it get to be the weekend already?_ Edward wondered as he dragged himself out of bed, blinking at the sunlight blazing through his tiny dorm room’s window. Books were stacked all over the place, scrawled notes pinned into the wall in an almost decorative randomness. There were several mostly-drunk cups of coffee sitting amongst the clutter, too, and some odd, crumb-laden plates. He blinked, again, at his own disarray as if someone else’s ransacking had caused it, then reached for his pocket watch to squint at the time.

A muttered oath accompanied his scramble up from the bed. He grabbed his gear and half-ran for the showers. It was late enough in the morning that no one else was there, so he didn’t feel the usual self-consciousness over his exposed automail.

Feeling much more awake, but still pressed for time, he hurried back to his room and got dressed. He noticed a rip on the sleeve of his black jacket and clapped his hands almost without noticing, fixing and cleaning his clothes in one flash. He paused for a long moment after he’d done this and stared at his now-pristine black outfit. _Huh. Haven’t done that in awhile._

He’d maintained his wardrobe via alchemy for years while traveling far and wide with Alphonse. It had been the easiest way to do things, and had been the main reason he always wore the same thing. Easier to have the one pattern to transmute. But after so long away — and so long having to do things not just the non-alchemic way but the hard way — the simplest, most everyday acts of alchemy still sometimes brought him up short.

Shaking himself free of the memories, he dressed quickly, feeling pressed for time, and reached for his red coat before remembering where he was going. _Incognito, then._ He caught up the plain, navy blue coat he wore when trying to stay anonymous, pulled his damp hair back into a ponytail rather than his usual braid, and glared at the reading glasses he’d reluctantly purchased just after Al’s departure, following his little brother’s urging to have his eyes examined. He’d been squinting a lot. _But if I wear them, I should be even less recognizable_. 

He picked them up and tucked them into his front pocket. He’d put them on once he was off the base. No need to invite new reasons for Mustang to make fun of him.

There was just enough time to catch the street car to the station, and when he arrived there, just enough time to buy a coffee and roll before he had to board the train for Hoyle. 

The glasses seemed to do the trick; no one whispered or pointed or muttered his title. _I’ll have to be sure to keep these a secret when I’m on duty_ , Ed thought, rather pleased that his desire for the ability to go unnoticed when off-duty dovetailed so neatly with his vanity.

The trip didn’t take long, and within two hours, he’d reached the university town. As he stepped down from the train onto the unfamiliar platform, he found himself looking for a large suit of armor. _Shit. How long am I going to do that?_ He spotted Alphonse almost at once and walked to meet him.

Alphonse looked tired but his face lit when he saw Ed, even though he, too, seemed not to have been looking for the face he found. ”You did need glasses, Niisan!” he exclaimed, all-too pleased to have been right.

“Yeah, I guess so. Old age is catching up with me,” Ed retorted. Al snorted and caught his brother’s arm, half-dragging him toward the station entrance.

“I found this great café where we can meet. It’s nice and quiet. I go there and study sometimes since it’s way off-campus. No one else from my classes seems to know about it,” Al said, his words tumbling out so fast it was as if he’d been saving them up just for Ed.

 _It’s only been three weeks, and already it’s his life...,_ Ed thought. He supposed the same was true for him. He’d settled into his new role almost more smoothly than he would ever have thought possible. Thinking back to how much he’d hated being in the military when he’d been a teenager, he wondered why it didn’t bother him very much anymore. _Is it because I’ve lived through worse? Is it because Hawkeye’s my commander now? Or is it because I know I’m good at it?_

They caught up quickly, each hitting only the surface of what was going on in their lives. Al loved his studies — nothing could be more obvious to Ed — but Ed’s attempts at lightness were just as obvious to Al.

“So what’s really going on, Niisan?” he asked after they’d finished eating and were each on their fourth cup of coffee.

Al knew about Winry and her plans — she’d written him a couple of days before — but Ed hadn’t discussed his case, yet. Before, Al would have been right in the thick of the investigation with him, and he missed having his brother’s insight and expertise to rely on. It had made things easier, to always have a fellow alchemist with whom he could discuss ideas and theories — and who saw things from a different perspective. 

He didn’t want to keep dragging Alphonse into murky military business, but this case would resonate with Al, he knew, just as it did with him. And maybe he would think of something that would help.

Taking a deep breath, Ed launched into the story of his case. Al listened intently, nodding, asking a few questions here and there, but mostly taking it all in. When Ed reached the latest all-nighter session he and his team had spent, reviewing everything, he noticed Al was grinning.

“Niisan, just think how proud the Lieutenant Colonel would be.”

A crooked grin cracked Ed’s face, and he shook his head. “I’ll be snapping pictures like an idiot, next, and letting my beard grow all scruffy.” They both laughed at that. Neither of them had too much facial hair to deal with, in spite of the fact that their father had sported a full beard.

“I think you’re on the right track,” Al said, shifting into collaboration-mode. “Someone seems to be trying to continue Gran and Tucker’s work.”

“I keep asking myself if I’m sure they’re both dead,” Ed muttered. “It just seems so insane that this would come up now, after all this time. Just when I’m back.”

“It’s a coincidence, Niisan,” Al assured him, frowning. “That’s all. But their research got spread around after Lab 5 was destroyed. Anyone could have picked it up and started working on it.”

“That’s the trouble. It could be anyone!”

Al was silent for a few moments, thoughtful. “No, it couldn’t be just anyone. It would almost have to be an alchemist with ties to the military.”

“Al, you’re under arrest,” Ed dead-panned.

Al rolled his eyes and snickered. “I’m trying to help! Would you stay focused, please?”

“Could it be a homunculus?” Ed asked after they were both quiet, again, for a bit. 

“I don’t think so,” Al said. “I think we took care of that problem, at least until someone else screws up. Besides, you know only a couple of them could do alchemy, and even then, it was weird.”

Ed nodded. “I wish I could find a thread to pull on that actually unraveled something. Everything I find out just makes the picture more confused.”

“Maybe Martel would know something,” Al suggested. “She might remember names from when Gran was still alive.”

Startled, Ed looked at his brother through narrowed eyes. “Do you know where she is?” he demanded.

Al didn’t flinch under his brother’s disapproving glare. “Yes,” he admitted. “We write. I can ask her to contact you, if you’d like.”

Ed toyed with the idea of freaking out and screaming at his brother for maintaining a connection with someone who’d helped kidnap him, but their alliances during those years had been strange and confused. He thought about Scar and Greed and let his outrage melt away. “Yeah, that’d be a help, Al. Thanks.” 

Martel was one of the few truly successful human chimeras Ed had ever seen. The rest of Greed’s team had been killed, and Tucker’s own transmuted form had been a hideous botch, but Martel’s had seemed near-perfect; almost elegant. Whoever had performed that bit of alchemy had known what they were doing.

They both seemed to silently agree to end this part of their conversation and turn to the personal, and they discussed Winry’s plan to open her own business in Central.

“It’s going to make my life a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure,” Ed said, grinning. “No more worries about running all the way to Rizembool to get a bolt tightened.”

The stricken look on Al’s face surprised Ed, and he frowned. _What the hell did I say?_

“I’m sorry, Niisan,” Al whispered. “You restored me, just like you promised, but I didn’t restore you.”

“Al! It was never that important to me,” Ed insisted. “Restoring you was what was important. An arm and leg? Small price to pay, considering what we did, and what happened to you. I can live with it, really.”

“But your automail is so... I know you’re in pain a lot of the time.” Al’s expression was miserable, and he looked ten years younger and about to cry.

“Don’t let Winry hear you say that,” Ed teased. “It isn’t so bad. It only hurts sometimes. Weather changes, or if I have to take it off. When I was away... I told you what it was like there, didn’t I?”

“They didn’t have automail,” Al whispered.

“I was useless,” Ed said, his voice low and angry. “I couldn’t do anything that needed two arms and two legs. People didn’t always see me as even human. With automail, I have a real life. I mean, I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist! You can’t imagine how...” Ed’s voice trialed off into silence. “I owe Winry and Pinako so much; they have no idea. Without them, I’d be a burden on everyone. My life now... it’s a gift.”

Al bit his lip but didn’t bring up the matter again. The server came by and refilled their cups, and Al asked for the bill. Ed resisted looking at his watch. His voice had been very quiet when he’d mentioned his title, but bringing out the watch could attract someone’s notice, and he didn’t want to out himself as a State Alchemist on his very first visit to Hoyle.

Too soon, they were standing outside the train station stalling their goodbyes. “Next week, then?” Ed said, trying to keep the mood light.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you at the café, though, if that’s okay. I have a big exam to study for, so I need every spare second.”

“Sure. No problem. Need anything from Central?”

Al listed a few of their books he’d like to review, and Ed scribbled down the titles in his notebook and promised to bring them.

Neither of them seemed to know how to end this day, and when the first warning blare sounded from the distant platform, they both jumped, startled that they’d frittered away so much time.

Ed didn’t know if he should hug Al, but Al knew, and he caught his older brother in an embrace. “I miss you, Niisan,” he said, pulling away. “We have a break in a few weeks, and I’ll come to Central to see you.”

“Okay. Great.”

“Niisan,” Al began, delaying their parting once more. Ed had been half-turned to go to his train.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to tell Winry?” 

“Tell her what?” Ed asked, frowning. “About the automail?”

“No, not that,” Al said. “Though I think she’d like to hear it. I just want to know, are you going to tell Winry that you’re in love with her?”

The final warning sounded, and Al interrupted himself and ordered, “Go! There isn’t another train for Central for hours if you miss this one.”

Ed gaped at Al, stunned by the question and by Al’s clear awareness that such a feeling even existed. He’d thought it buried too deeply inside of him for anyone to see.

“Go!” Al insisted, and Ed, head shaking in exasperation, turned and ran.


	7. Connections

By the time Edward’s train reached Central Station, he’d played those last few words of Alphonse’s over and over again in his brain. _He knows. He KNOWS! Who else knows?_ Gracia, it was almost certain. If Al knew, Gracia, who saw Ed and Winry together almost every day, _had_ to know.

But did Winry know? Did Winry feel the same way? Was it too soon after everything that had happened to him — to them — to think about crossing the line separating friendship and something more?

_Let me get through his case, and then I’ll think about what to do next,_ Ed thought, bargaining with himself. Somewhere as deeply buried as his feelings for Winry lay the knowledge that this argument was just a ploy to keep himself from having to deal with those feelings. But he’d deal with that later, too.

He took the streetcar back to Central HQ, taking off his navy coat and draping it over his arm. He quickly pocketed his glasses just before he dropped with practiced ease off the back of the streetcar, landing gracefully on the sidewalk where a small group of young women was just then walking by. They stared at him, giggling and whispering. One of them waved. He smiled crookedly, and gave them a careless salute before heading off to his office, followed by a fresh wave of their giggles.

Hawkeye sat in her office with the door open. Black Hayate slept curled up on a rug in front of her desk, but no one else seemed to be around.

Ed gave her a similar salute to the one he’d given the girls, and she glanced up and smiled. “Working the weekend, Fullmetal?” she inquired.

“This case...,” he said, knowing that explained it all. She was up-to-date on his lack of progress.

She nodded and changed the subject. “How’s Alphonse doing at Hoyle?”

“He loves it. Top of his class already.”

“Naturally. He’s an Elric, after all.” Ed blushed at the implied compliment, gave a little nod, and hurried off to his own office.

Evidence that Scieszka was somewhere nearby littered her desk. Opened books, scribbled notes, two mostly-finished cups of coffee, crumbs.

Maria and Denny had departed the day before to follow-up on the hyena angle based on the theories they’d devised during their late-night review earlier in the week. Ed’s own part of the research stood in a stack on his desk.

The key, he thought, would be in finding other alchemists who’d worked for Gran at the same time as the late alchemist, Marissa Landis. Ed felt better, knowing her name. He liked to have someone to avenge and not just an amorphous “evil” to work against. She likely wasn’t an innocent victim. Maybe she’d been just as bad as Gran and Tucker. But she’d been made into a chimera and then had killed herself in an act of such desperation, it hurt Ed to think of it. He’d been that desperate before in his own life. No one should ever have to be that scared and be alone with it, too.

It was dark by the time he’d worked his way through the stack of missing persons reports — missing alchemists, all. Scieszka had returned after he’d been working for about an hour, but they’d merely exchanged nods and both continued their work. At about seven o’clock, Hawkeye had suggested food, and then had tracked down an enlisted man to go fetch it for them. At eleven-thirty, Scieszka had gone to the Gryphon’s Claw, the bar recently most-favored by military personnel, and purchased three cups of their wonderful and extremely strong coffee.

Ed had been moving back and forth between the archive room and the ever-shrinking pile on his desk, cross-referencing each candidate against his or her records. Several State Alchemists had been involved with Gran’s work — they hadn’t all been civilians — and he’d narrowed his field of missing alchemists to three who fit the profile he and his team had worked out.

At midnight, coffees in hand, the three gathered to review Ed’s notes. “Vera Landis, Marissa’s sister-in-law, married to her brother, who was also an alchemist,” he read. ”State Alchemist, title of Green Alchemist — I think he specialized in botanicals. He died years ago during the Ishbal Massacre. Vera and Marissa continued to work together after that, and they went missing at almost the same time, right after... right after I did. And now we’ve found Marissa.”

“A lot of people went missing then,” Hawkeye commented. “Most of them took the opportunity all that chaos afforded to desert.”

Ed nodded. “I think that might be the case here. Vera’s a State Alchemist, title of True Blood. We already know Marissa wasn’t. The records are vague about what Vera was doing between Ishbal and the destruction of Lab Five,” Ed continued. “Which makes her an excellent candidate.”

“The name is familiar, but I can’t think of why. You should talk to the brigadier,” Hawkeye said. “He probably knew her.”

Ed suppressed a snort and nodded. “The other two have similar stories to Vera’s. Geoffrey Maier, another civilian, and Marcel Watson—”

“Oh!” Scieszka gasped. “The Shooting Star Alchemist? I thought he was dead.”

“Apparently just missing. I’m going to follow-up on Vera myself, so I’ll be away for a few days,” he finished.

Hawkeye nodded and stood up. “Good work.”

Ed frowned, standing as well. It was time for him to go, anyway. His eyes were too fuzzy to read even one more word. “You think so?” he asked, really wanting to know.

“Investigations aren’t easy. Each piece has to be figured out through hard work. You’re making good progress, working well with your team, and adapting to the new information as you find it out.”

“It’s just taking such a long time,” Ed muttered, shuffling the papers on his desk as a distraction from his own misery at that fact.

It was Hawkeye’s turn to snort. “You of all people, Fullmetal, know that finding the truth takes time and work.” And she left.

Scieszka looked at him, eyebrows raised, and they exchanged smiles. She straightened her own desk, pulled on her coat, and left. The light went dark in Hawkeye’s office a moment later. He glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Nothing else to do but go back to the dorm, himself, and try to sleep.

“We should have skipped the midnight coffee,” He muttered, but downed the last wonderful mouthful before throwing the cup away.

He wanted to see Winry. He’d wanted to see her all the way home on the train, all the way to HQ on the streetcar, all the way through the stack of files on missing alchemists. But he didn’t know what to do or say when he did see her.

They’d had lunch that next day, just as he’d suggested, and she’d been full of funny stories about her so-far failed search for an automail shop. Every place she’d looked at was all wrong in one way or another. The building was too big or too small or falling apart or far too fancy. Nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed even to have potential to fix up or rearrange to work.

As she’d talked about her quest, an idea had suggested itself in the very back of Edward’s brain. The idea had been developing ever since, working out problems that might prevent it from being a good idea, composing arguments to support itself, and generally becoming an idea Ed wanted to share with Winry.

Sunday lunch was a traditional must-attend for him at Gracia’s house. Sometimes there were other guests, too. Friends of Elysia’s from school; friends of Gracia’s; friends from back in the day when Maes Hughes had still been alive. Once, Mustang had been there, too, but Ed doubted he’d be brave enough to share an entire meal with Winry. She’d done her best to forgive the man for what he’d done, but Ed couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be reminded of her parents’ deaths during dinner.

_Go get some sleep, you moron,_ he scolded himself. _You’ll fall face-first into your plate tomorrow if you stay up much longer._

He pulled on his coat and switched off the light as he left his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Looking up at a sound, he saw Mustang himself standing a few feet away, watching him.

“Not good, Fullmetal. Was a time, I’d never have been able to get this close to you without your knowing.”

“Who says I didn’t know?” Ed shot back, his crooked smile snapping into place.

Mustang took another step closer. “I do. You’re pushing yourself too hard. As usual. The woman’s already dead; nothing you do can save her. You don’t have to kill yourself just to solve this mystery.”

“Have you been reading my reports?” Ed asked, leaning back against the door with a tired sigh. “I don’t think this is a one-time thing.”

“Even so,” Mustang said, his hand opening in a gesture that was half-shrug. “There’s time to figure it out. If you don’t pace yourself, you’ll get sick. And then Alphonse and Miss Rockbell will kill me.”

Ed’s crooked smile turned into a grin. “So this apparent concern _is_ all about you, after all. Isn’t it, Brigadier?”

“I think there’s another word beginning with ‘b’ that you’re thinking when you say my rank, Fullmetal,” the general shot back, his own expression turning into a smile.

“Bastard,” Ed obliged. “Bastard General, sir.”

The man shook his head, a full smile gracing his face. “God, I missed you. No one else insults me with such complete conviction and moral certainty.”

Ed gave a tiny bow. “Happy to be of service, bastard-sir.”

Mustang sighed as if very happy which struck Ed as hilarious. “Let’s get a drink,” the general suggested. “The Gryphon will be open for hours, and you don’t have to be at Gracia’s house until lunchtime.”

“All right, stupid know-it-all Bastard General,” Ed said. “Let’s.”

As they walked toward the entrance, Mustang said, “Your review is coming up soon. Any thoughts on what you’ll do for requalification?”

Ed would have sneered at this if he hadn’t caught the implied reference. It was a bittersweet memory; their last duel had been emceed by their mutual friend Maes Hughes. _Is he friendless, now? All subordinates and no friends?_

“I’ll kick your ass, again, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Ed replied.

Mustang barked a laugh and said, “I’m not sure the current leadership is crazy enough to approve such an exam these days.”

Ed stopped and turned to face the general, and the man stopped, too, and looked expectantly at him. “Why wasn’t I arrested when I came back?”

All expression vanished from the general’s face. “Didn’t Alphonse tell you?”

“Maybe he did,” Edward allowed. “Maybe I want to hear it from you.”

It was Mustang’s turn to collapse back against the wall with a sigh, and Edward wondered to himself at the change in the man. Mustang’s dream of becoming Fuhrer may as well have died with Hughes, and was certainly impossible now, after all that had happened after the war.

But Mustang had experienced more than his share of loss and disappointment, and he’d helped Ed more than Ed had ever given him credit for. He’d never acknowledged properly just how much of Al’s restoration was thanks to Mustang’s support.

“Once everything calmed down and the interim civilian government was in place,” Mustang began. “The war crimes trials began. Everyone was investigated and a lot of us actually stood trial.”

“You did?” Ed exclaimed.

Mustang nodded. “Of course. I was a command officer.”

“It went all right, obviously,” Ed said. “You’ve been promoted.”

“Yes. I was exonerated. Most of the investigations of the lower ranks were quick. Havoc, Hawkeye, everyone in my command was exonerated, and most of them were promoted. Many others weren’t. Many were demoted or dishonorably discharged or imprisoned. Many of the trials were in absentia. Yours was.”

Ed gaped at the general. _Tried in absentia?_ “Al didn’t say anything about that.”

“It was a closed trial. Too much of the evidence surrounding you was highly classified. Most people don’t even know the trial took place, but it did. In the end... the case was made that you acted in the best interests of Amestris, in spite of some of your more... unorthodox methods. It was decided that, for the good of the country, you would be pardoned. In order to pardon you publicly, the details would have to come out, and no one wanted that to happen. So, publicly, it was said that you were found innocent.”

His blood ran cold. _Pardoned?_ “What was I pardoned for doing?” Ed rasped.

“Disobeying orders. Insubordination. Desertion. Performance of human alchemy.”

“Shit,” Ed breathed. “How many people know?”

“Just the Inquisition and those of us who participated in the trial in some way. About twenty people. No one’s going to discuss it. If something happened — say someone tried to blackmail you — the pool of suspects would be vanishingly small, and you weren’t the only person this was done for.”

Ed’s eyes flickered to the general’s face. “You?” he whispered.

Mustang’s nod was almost imperceptible. “Aiding and abetting. Some hints of treason.”

“Shit,” Ed repeated, much more matter-of-factly. They were both silent for a long time, and then Ed said, “Hey, how about that drink?”

He was rewarded with the return of the general’s smile. Though he hadn’t spelled everything out, it was clear to Ed that the general had saved him. That someone had saved Mustang, too, was equally clear. They’d both survived what should have been their downfalls. They both shared a friend who had, in some way, died because of them. They’d both done things they’d never be able to completely forgive themselves for having done.

As they passed through the front entrance and out into the darkness, Ed said, “I never knew if I could trust you. I did trust you, but I always wondered if I should.”

“I’m sorry that I gave you reason to doubt me,” Mustang said, using the dark to hide his expression. “I wasn’t always sure how to deal with you.”

“Yeah, well, let’s go from here, okay?” Ed suggested. “Seems we both have clean slates now. Might as well take advantage of them.”

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Mustang only pretended to be a heavy drinker. In actuality, he nursed a single drink, watched everyone else surreptitiously, and kept up a surprisingly lively conversation filled with more gossip about their fellow officers than Ed would ever have expected the man to share with him. Ed suspected he’d been right and that the great Roy Mustang really needed a friend. _Well, so do I, and if Mustang was a good enough friend for Hughes, he’s good enough for me._

Nevertheless, drunk or not, they were still out very late, and when he woke up at last, for the second morning in a row, Ed swore and dashed for the showers.

He arrived at Gracia’s house with his still-wet hair braided back and in decidedly civilian clothes. This was almost as startling to Winry as the sight of his uniform had been, and she gaped at him.

“C’mon, Winry, it’s just a shirt!” he exclaimed, handing her the cake he’d bought on his way over.

“You’re always in that black outfit—” she exclaimed. “It’s just... it’s weird to see you in real clothes.”

Elysia giggled at that. “Ed-niisan always wears real clothes on Sundays,” she explained.

There were no guests, Ed saw, and he fell into his role, slicing up the bread, helping Elysia set the table, and fixing anything that might be broken which today was a favorite toy horse.

By the time they all sat down to eat, the atmosphere was relaxed and happy and so _right_ , Ed wished the day never had to end.

As Gracia sliced the cake, and he poured out coffee for the three grown-ups and milk for Elysia, Ed decided it was a good time to share his idea with Winry, but she also seemed to have had an idea, and she spoke up first.

“I found the absolutely most perfect place,” she said.

“And?” Gracia prompted.

“It needs a lot of work. But it could be really great. It could be wonderful. I just don’t know if I have the money to fix it up properly.”

Ed did a mental cheer at that. His idea _would_ work after all! “Let’s go look at it together tomorrow,” he suggested. “I can take a long lunch break.”

Gracia’s eyes met Ed’s for a brief moment, and he knew, then, that she did know. She and Al. And Hawkeye, too, probably. Maybe even Roy — _Can’t believe he told me to call him_ _Roy_ _off-duty. He called me Edward! Weird. Not sure I can get used to this._ Everyone knew, and he’d thought it was a big secret, and Winry didn’t seem to aware of it at all. _God, we’re stupid._

Delighted, Winry latched onto his offer, and then spent the rest of the day going on and on about what she wanted to do with the property. It was love, for certain, and Ed wanted to help her get this thing she wanted so badly.

The next day, back in uniform, Ed met Winry at a café only three blocks from HQ. “Her” building stood only another block away, situated perfectly between the military compound and the hospital.

They purchased a picnic lunch and strolled over to Winry’s beloved building. The building itself had obviously once been beautiful, but its impressive façade was now marred by broken and boarded-up windows. Winry had the key from the agent and unlocked the door, leading Ed into the dim, dusty interior as if nothing had been amiss with the outside.

Dust didn’t begin to describe it. The place had been left derelict for a very long time to have reached the state it was now in. The rocks which had broken the windows dotted the floor. Clear evidence of animal infestation lay strewn around the room, too, and what little furniture had been left behind was buried in dust and broken.

“What happened here?” Ed said, disbelieving. “You’d think this building would have been sold or rented right back out when the last owner left.”

“I know,” Winry said, sadly. “I guess it was the war. The owner didn’t sell it. He just disappeared, and since it was paid-for, no one even noticed for a long time that it had been abandoned. The agent said she’s been dealing with the family by mail for the past month, but they don’t seem to understand the state it’s in, so they don’t want to come down on the price very much.”

“We could send them pictures,” Ed suggested.

“Gracia already took some,” Winry agreed, grinning at him. She spun around in the middle of the — Ed had to admit — perfect space for an automail shop. “I want this place so much! Can’t you just see me here?”

He could. He did. Now was his idea’s time to make itself known. “It’s you, Winry. It’s perfect. And I’ve been thinking...” She stopped twirling and looked at him, expectant. “This is a big place. How many rooms are there?”

“More than I’d need. But I could always rent out the extra space—”

“Yeah, that’s just it,” Ed interrupted. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. What if I...” As he started to say the idea out loud, he began to doubt it. _What if this is a crazy idea. What if she thinks I’m suggesting something else?_

“Yes?” Winry prompted after a momentary, awkward silence.

_Aigh. Just say it. The worst she’ll do is hit you with a wrench._ And the idea tumbled out in a rush. “What if we bought the place together? You know, shared it? I could have an office and a library and a place to stay when I was in the city. You could have all of your stuff. We could share the kitchen, and if you want, we could hire someone to come in a clean since we’ll both be so busy, maybe even cook. And there’d be room for Al to stay when he’s in town.”

Winry’s mouth had dropped open as he’d blurted all this out, and by the time he reached the part about Al, her shocked expression had resolved into something closer to delight.

“Ed!” she breathed. “That’s the most wonderful idea! Do you mean it?”

Relieved, Ed nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it since we talked last week. That it’d be easier for you to find a place if you could think bigger about it. This is Central, after all. There aren’t a lot of small shops around that would work for automail.”

“Sorry for asking,” Winry began. “But do you have the money to go in on something like this?”

Ed’s crooked smile appeared, and he nodded. “I was always on an expense account when I was traveling, and Al never needed anything, so I barely spent a dime of my earnings since I joined the military. Then, just last week, I found out I’m getting back pay and a combat bonus.”

“But you act like you’re broke!” Winry exclaimed, looking at him with a very familiar, annoyed expression. Ed wondered where her wrench was hiding and when it would conk him.

“Well, Al has a scholarship, but Hoyle is still expensive. And I’ve been saving for a house.”

Winry stared. “That is the most mature thing I’ve ever heard you say, Edward Elric.”

“Couldn’t let you be the only grown-up,” he said. They grinned at each other and Winry twirled around again.

“We have to buy this one, or the deal’s off!”

“Fine,” Ed agreed. “Show me around. I promise I’ll do my best to fall in love with it, too.”

It _was_ a great place, with several large, airy rooms which could be turned into whatever you wanted them to be. Two bathrooms — a selling point in and of itself — and a very large kitchen at the back, facing out into the massive back yard completed the argument. The yard was enclosed by a very tall, wooden fence and well-placed stands of trees. A small, neglected garden stood in one corner of the yard. But it was the rotting pile of cut lumber that gave Ed his next idea.

“Let’s buy the place as-is,” he said.

“Oh, Ed. It’s terribly overpriced,” Winry argued.

“I know,” he said, smiling a sly smile at her. “But let’s buy it. Everything’s here that we need. It’s perfect.”

“Ed! We won’t have enough money to fix—” and then she realized what he was suggesting. “Oh, wow. That is a great idea. Can you do it?”

“Hell, yes!” Ed declared. “Who do you think I am, anyway? We may have to buy some spare parts, or we could haul stuff in from the junk yard. But there’s enough here to work with.”

“This is crazy!” Winry giggled. “Are you seriously suggesting that you’re going to transmute our house?”

Ed threw his flesh arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick hug as he threw out his metal arm to encompass the property. “Just tell me what you want it to look like when I’m done.”


	8. Cut Off

Winry watched as Edward headed back to his office, appreciating the grace and ease of his authoritative stride. He made her automail look good. When he looked back briefly, saw her watching and gave her a quick wink, she felt herself blush.

_Oops,_ she thought. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to bring any expectations with her to Central. She wasn’t going to hope too much. _But now we’re going to be LIVING TOGETHER!_ As friends, of course. Roommates. No different, really, from any of the times before they’d shared living quarters—at Granny Pinako’s, at various hotels, at Izumi-Sensei’s. _But it is different. Because I_ want _it to be different._

One thing she was not going to do, however, was pay the asking price for the building. Even if they were going to save money by... doing the repairs themselves. 

Winry packed up the remains of their picnic lunch, looked a long last time at the building, and then locked up and made her way to the agent’s office to return the key.

Having explained the situation to the agent, and advising her that an offer was forthcoming if the sellers could be made to see reason about their asking price, Winry returned to Gracia’s house, her brain filled with thoughts she really needed to discuss with someone.

Gracia listened with a small smile on her face, then said, when Winry was done, “it sounds like a fine plan to me. You’ll both save money, and neither of you will have to be alone. You’re practically family already.”

Winry dropped her forehead to her arms, which were crossed in front of her on the table, and confessed in a muffled voice, “but I don’t want him to think of me as his _sister_!”

Gracia laughed at that. “Winry, men do no look at their sisters the way Edward looks at you.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ed caught the last train from Central Station that night with Falman along for the ride—at Hawkeye’s insistence—as his assistant and bodyguard.

The last known location of Vera and Marissa Landis lay a full day’s ride due north, so he’d have a lot of time to think. He hoped Maria and Denny’s investigation was going well. He wished some clue would turn out to lead somewhere soon. 

He’d followed Hawkeye’s advice and asked Roy about Vera Landis which had led the older man to go far-away-eyed and nostalgic.

“Ah, Vera... True Blood, indeed. The Landis’s used to be one of the great alchemy families, like the Armstrongs. After Rafe—the Green Alchemist—died at Ishbal, though, Vera vanished into more and more secret research. I think they were the last of their line, so unless Vera’s had a child, that’s the end of them.”

“So he and Marissa never had children?” Ed asked.

“Oh, yes. Marissa...” Roy frowned at Ed. “Is that who was in the alley?”

Ed rolled his eyes. “You aren’t reading my reports at all, are you?” 

“I am! I’m... skimming them.”

On the train, Ed snorted at the memory. Roy hadn’t known too much that was useful. Unsurprisingly, he’d dated Vera but never seriously. He didn’t know too much about the Landis family, beyond rumor, as they’d been more senior than he had been. It seemed Vera had not been involved with the slaughter on the ground at Ishbal. Perhaps she’d fled after her brother died and missed the worst of it. 

_But why go work for Gran if that’s the case?_ Ed wondered.

One theory as to why suggested itself: Power and the ability to restore what was lost. He was certainly not the only alchemist to be tempted down that path. She hadn’t done it at the time, though, or there would have been yet another homunculus resembling her lost brother wandering around. Or maybe there was.

Ed growled, annoyed at all the unknowns, and tried to get some sleep.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Winry arrived at the hospital early. Today would be her first surgery, though she’d only be observing, and she was too excited to wait.

The hours passed far more quickly than she could believe, and by the time the surgery was over, Winry’s head was stuffed with new ideas and techniques, and she was even more excited that the next time, she’d be able to assist.

Dr. Grantham seemed suitably impressed by what she already knew and, before she left, had arranged her next training surgery.

Later, she wondered if she’d been more tired than she realized or if she’d just been too distracted. Something pressed into her spine as a hand caught her arm. The voice was odd and barely human, but its words were perfectly understandable.

“I have a gun,” the voice rasped. “And I’ll use it if you don’t come with me.”

_I have a wrench! I have a temper! I have alchemist best friends! I have to tell Ed I love him!_

But all the thoughts screaming through her brain gave way to hard logic. The gun could be fired long before she could twist out of its way, and if she got herself killed, Ed would never forgive her.

“Fine,” she breathed. “Let’s go.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

Edward and Falman returned to Central just a day later, arriving on the last train back. In spite of talking to just about everyone in the tiny town of Menalos, he’d uncovered little about Vera Landis aside from the fact that she’d been the black sheep of the revered Landis family. No one wanted to talk about why, but no one seemed to know what had happened to her, either. 

Of Marissa, he’d been able to uncover a bit more. Before marrying Rafe Landis, she’d been Marissa Phelan and had been born and raised in Central City.

“At least we can investigate that without having to take another train ride,” Falman had commented. Ed had nodded agreement.

He climbed down from the train, debating internally whether he should stop by Gracia’s to see everyone or just go to his dorm and go to sleep, when he saw Gracia standing on the platform, her face drawn. Beside her stood Hawkeye.

Ed froze, his hand still on the railing, and stared at the women.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Winry and her captor didn’t go far. The building was a dilapidated, boarded-up mess in an industrial area a few blocks away from the hospital. A space had been cleared in the center of a large, interior room, illuminated only by what fading sunshine could make it through the filthy glass of the skylights. A figure lay on a mat in the center of the room, covered in ragged blankets. The blankets were covered in blood stains, and it became clear, as she drew near the mat, that large pools of blood had been mopped up all around the space.

Her captor had not allowed her to turn around. She had no idea if she was being held prisoner by a man or a woman, but it was a woman lying on the mat. 

“She was attacked by an animal. Tore her arm off. I need you to make her a new one.”

Winry tried to turn around, then. Such a statement required her to stare aghast at whoever had said it. But the gun shoved itself more violently into her spine, bruising her.

“Don’t,” her captor ordered. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it.”

“She doesn’t look well,” Winry said. “Automail installation is one of the most physically difficult surgeries there is. Even if she were completely healthy, she could die from it.”

“She can’t die. I need her. You have to fix this.”

“But—”

“I know who you are,” the voice rasped. “I know what you’re capable of doing.”

“If you know who I am,” Winry said. “Then you know people will be looking for me. _He_ will be looking for me.”

“I want that, too. In fact, that’s exactly what I want.”

_Oh, God. This is a trap for Ed! This crazy person is using me to get to Ed!_

“I’ll need my tools,” Winry said. “And I’ll need surgical-grade steel. A lot of it. And a fully-equipped workshop...” she trailed off, staring around the filthy, barren room. “I can’t do this without the proper equipment!”

The gun shoved itself into her back again, and Winry bit her lip to silence a cry of pain. “This way,” her captor ordered.

They crossed the room and went through a door half-hidden by shadow. Stepping through the doorway, Winry was greeted by a sight both impressive and frightening.

“What is this place?” she rasped, wanting to turn around more than she ever had wanted to in her life.

“Lab 13,” the voice said, sounding amused. “A little joke. We moved our work here after your boyfriend destroyed Lab Five. The work had to go on, no matter what. We were so close...”

“But Tucker—”

“Tucker’s work was only part of it,” the voice growled. “He had his own agenda, but we had ours, too.”

“Who are you?” Winry demanded. Tucker was dead, and the homunculi were gone, too, so who could be coming back to haunt Ed now?

“You wouldn’t know me. I kept out of everyone’s way, biding my time. Watching as that Fullmetal upstart dismantled everything we’d worked so hard to build.”

Winry felt a surge of pride at this statement, but she also felt panic. If Ed came to save her, he’d be in danger. _So I’ll just have to save myself, first._


	9. Preparations

The woman didn’t weigh as much as Winry feared, and the young mechanic was able to half-carry her into the adjacent laboratory, away from the filth and cold of the room where Winry’s captor had apparently abandoned the poor woman. A trail of dark blood streaked the floor in their wake, drawn across the cracked and dirty concrete by the woman’s dragging feet.

_He insists I save her, but he does nothing for her himself... she might have died! She must have been like this for days._

There was no doubting it had been some time, at least. The whole arm was going to have to come off. Gangrene had set in, and Winry could only pray that the infection hadn’t already gone too far. The smell was beyond anything she’d ever before encountered, and she breathed through her mouth, trying desperately not go be sick.

She didn’t have much time and had done only the bare minimum to set up her initial work area just inside the laboratory. She’d set up a gurney — there were, unsettlingly, several of these in the massive, well-equipped lab — and had told her captor she’d need surgical instruments and plenty of hot water. _A knife, clamps, a saw, needle and thread... God, help me..._ It was going to be messy, and it was going to be hard, and she was probably going to have to do it all alone.

The man — and she’d decided her captor was a man — moved in darkness as if he carried the shadows around with him, but he gathered everything she asked for. She sent the man off for towels and bandages and anything to help with the pain or to keep the patient unconscious during the amputation. She worked on sterilizing the instruments.

“Thank you.” A rasped whisper was all the sound the woman made, but Winry whirled to face her, eyes wide. “He doesn’t mean to be cruel, you know. It’s his nature. Now.”

Winry shook her head, not comprehending what the woman meant. “I’m afraid that arm is going to have to come off,” she said. It was far too late to soften any blow. The woman’s eyes glowed with intelligence and something else that seemed off to Winry, but there was no way a lie was going to be believed by those eyes.

“Yes, I know,” the woman said. “I’m glad you’re blunt. I’ve always hated pretty lies. ...My name is Vera, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Winry Rockbell.”

“Ah, yes. That makes sense, that he found you. He’s hated the Fullmetal Alchemist ever since Lab Five.”

Winry’s throat closed on a scream of rage and frustration. Whatever this crazy man blamed him for, it was not Ed’s fault! Lab Five had been a horrible place, and _someone_ needed to bring it down! She was glad it had been Ed; glad he’d destroyed these people’s obviously perverse plans.

She turned away from her patient abruptly to hide her anger. “Well, Vera. I can’t say I understand what you’re talking about. Ed helps people. If something happened at Lab Five, I can only imagine it was because he meant to help.”

A snort of disdain sounded behind her at this. “Help! Is that what you call it? He destroyed years of work and research. Destroyed everything we’d built up! Destroyed the pack—”

“Rafe!” Vera snapped. “Shut up.”

The man was silent at once, and Winry tried to control her shaking. She had to be steady for this. It would be hard enough to perform such a surgery under the best of circumstances. Here, it would be nearly impossible and completely so if she couldn’t master her own emotions.

She carefully reviewed her training and her tools. As Rafe set down the bandages and towels, she nodded at his offerings. He’d managed to get a lot of them. She hoped it would be enough.

“Is there any anathesia?” she asked.

“I don’t need it,” Vera said. “Just do what you have to, and make it fast.”

Winry turned back to meet the woman’s unsettling eyes. She saw reflected in them an understanding of what was about to happen, and even some comprehension of how painful it was going to be. 

“Tell him,” Winry ordered. “Tell him that I can’t guarantee you’ll live through this. You’ve been untreated for so long—”

Vera shuddered a shrug. “She can’t guarantee it, Rafe,” the woman repeated. “You left me there for too long.”

“Vera!” the man yelped.

“I see in her eyes that she intends to save me if she can,” Vera continued as if the man had not spoken. “The scent of determination is on her. If I die, it isn’t her fault. Do you understand?”

“She knows too much,” he growled, still fighting.

“If I die, there’s only you, and what can you do alone? It won’t matter what she knows.”

\- - - - - - - - - - 

“I don’t understand,” Ed repeated, staring stupidly at Hawkeye. They’d taken him to the station office, commandeered by Fuery for Hawkeye’s use while they all waited on Ed’s train. “She was abducted? Again?!”

“Captain Ross and Sgt. Major Brosh have already begun rounding up witnesses at the hospital. She left at about two o’clock and hasn’t been seen since. It’s only been a few hours, but the building agent was expecting her—”

“And she’d promised to pick up Elysia from school,” Gracia interrupted, looking even more worried than Ed imagined he did.

Winry kept her promises, that was certain. If something had come up, she’d have sent word to both the agent and Gracia.

“And her wrench was found near the hospital,” Hawkeye added.

“That cinches it, then,” Ed muttered. “No way she’d ever just forget that.” He pushed himself to his feet, exhaustion and nearly uncontrollable fury mingling to make his head swim. _If they’ve hurt her..._

“I’m going,” he said, his tone brooking no argument or countermanding order. If Hawkeye dared deny him this, it would be the end of everything, as far as he and the military were concerned. It surprised him how much he didn’t want that to happen.

“Of course, Fullmetal,” Hawkeye agreed, standing. “And I’m going with you.”


	10. Vigils

For the first time, Edward _really_ wished he knew how to drive, because then he would have had at least that much control over his impossible situation.

Fuery drove responsibly, following all the rules of the road when all Ed wanted him to do was plow through every obstacle and _get him to the hospital immediately!_

_Calm down,_ he thought to himself. Crazed overreaction wasn't going to help Winry. _Just calm down._ As if hearing his thoughts, Hawkeye's hand touched his arm, just for a moment, in a wordless gesture of comfort.

Gracia had chosen to go back home, in case Winry called or sent word, and Hawkeye dispatched Falman to stay with her and to offer any assistance or bring back any news.

Denny met them outside the hospital and ushered the officers into the room Maria had commandeered for their use. She'd been organizing possible witnesses and taking initial statements, working with the police to try to find some clue as to what had happened to Winry.

A depressing amount of time passed as Ed conducted interviews, turning up nothing but that someone, maybe, heard something somewhere.

When Fuery came up to Ed, while he was in the middle of yet another aggravating interview, and plucked tentatively at his arm, Ed nearly snarled.

"What," he bit out. _Not Fuery's fault... wish it were... wish I could hit someone..._

"Sir, there's someone here to see you," the man whispered. 

Ed frowned at him, confused. Of course someone was here to see him. He was talking to someone right now!

"Someone you need to see," Fuery added, his eyebrows raising and a little head-nod communicating very clearly to Ed that the man was trying to be stealthy about something.

"Where?" Ed asked, hoping Fuery wasn't simply trying to give him a way out of the truly useless interview he'd been conducting.

"Follow me, sir," Fuery said. 

_Okay_ , Ed thought. _But he'd better have something worthwhile after this act._

"Thank you for your time," Ed said to the nurse he'd been interviewing. He stood up. "We'll contact you if we have any further questions."

The young woman shot to her feet, her face flushed, and she nodded. A stammered, "Th-thank you, sir," was followed by a quick, somewhat clumsy bow, and she dashed from the room.

Ed frowned again and wondered if Fuery's skittishness was contagious. He followed the man out through a different door and down a long corridor. They reached a door leading outside, and Ed found himself emerging into a very dark alley. If it hadn't been Fuery, he would have been certain of some set-up. Instead, when a tiny ember flared in the darkness just beyond the circle of light haloing out from the open door behind him, he made the connection.

"Hi, Martel," he said, stepping further out into darkness. "Thanks for coming to see me." He waved Fuery away and the man nodded and retreated back into the hospital, leaving Ed alone to interview his unconventional contact.

"I came as soon as I got Al's letter," the chimera said, walking into the light. She held a cigarette loosely in one hand while smoke trickled from her mouth as she spoke. "All the pieces he mentioned don't make a nice picture when they're put together."

"Our friend Winry's been kidnapped, or at least she's vanished," Ed said. "I think it's connected somehow."

Martel dropped the cigarette and scuffed it into dust with her heel. "I'm sorry, Ed," she said. "If I'd known they weren't dead, I'd have told you all about this ages ago. Warned you and Alphonse. But I thought everyone but me—"

Ed shrugged. "No reason to think otherwise, until now. Do you know what's going on?"

Martel nodded. "I think so. Part of it, at least. Alphonse said you found Marissa Landis's body."

"She'd tried to unmake herself. She was a chimera, too. Half hyena."

Martel paled and shook her head. "Finally got her, then. Damn. She was always the good one, if any of them could be called that."

"Please," Ed whispered. "I've been trying to figure this out for weeks. What's going on, Martel?"

"The Landis family was so strong. They had two children who became State Alchemists this last generation — unheard of, really." 

"The Green Alchemist is dead, but Vera—" Ed began, but Martel interrupted.

"That's where your entire theory's gone wrong, Ed. Rafe Landis isn't dead."

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Winry looked into Vera's eyes and gave a firm nod. The woman nodded in return, set her jaw and turned away to stare up at the ceiling. The man she'd called Rafe stood on her other side, holding her other arm tightly. They'd tied down her ankles to try and keep the thrashing to a minimum. 

"Now," Winry ordered, and Vera opened her mouth while Rafe stuffed the thick wad of cloth between her teeth. As soon as his hands were both holding the woman's arm again, Winry picked up the saw.

\- - - - - - - - - - 

"You have to understand," Martel continued. "We didn't really know what was going on. We picked up pieces and some of us knew names and faces from before. Dorochet had served in the same command as the Green Alchemist. I'd been in the same command as the True Blood Alchemist."

"So they were the ones who made you all into chimeras?" Ed said, trying to clarify what Martel was telling him.

She nodded. "It was a much larger group. Gran would come and go, but he was clearly in charge. Vera Landis ran the day-to-day operations, though. We never did figure out what they really wanted. Shou Tucker had his own agenda, though he served Gran."

"Yes. He wanted to bring Nina back," Ed rasped.

"For someone whose specialty was chimeras, he wasn't anywhere near as talented as the three Landis alchemists," Martel said, shaking her head. "At least from my perspective. We were works of art... weren't we?" She turned, then, to look Ed right in the eyes. Something about her expression made him realize she was asking him a much deeper question than the words implied.

He grasped for something to say. Some equivalent exchange to make up for the information she was giving him. "Martel, you're still here, and you have your whole life. You're the most perfect chimera I've ever seen. There's no reason not to just _live_ your life. Is there?"

"I don't know how to ‘just live,' Ed. Everybody's dead. I'm all alone."

"You aren't," Ed scoffed, grinning to remove the sting. "Anyone who can call my brother a friend will never be alone."

After a long moment, Martel grinned back at him. "Stupid," she muttered. "It brings back too many memories, all of this. But you have a friend in trouble. Enough about me.

"Vera was in charge. Rafe couldn't do anything without her, and that always rankled Marissa."

"She and Rafe were married," Ed said, hoping she could verify his research. "But he's supposed to have died before the massacre at Ishbal — do you know what happened? Why wasn't he dead? And if he wasn't dead, why did everyone think he was, and why did he let them go on thinking it?"

Martel shook her head. "Too many questions, Ed. Wish I knew, but I don't have all your answers. All I know is that he wasn't dead. There were several other alchemists in their group. Helpers. Some were State and some weren't."

"Did you hear the names Geoffrey Maier or Marcel Watson?"

"We only knew the ones we'd served with," she said, shaking her head again. "We figured Marissa Landis's connection to the other two out from some arguments she and her husband had."

Ed blew out a breath. Time was ticking in his brain, and he was no closer to finding Winry, but at least he had a new puzzle piece. "Any idea what happened to Marissa? How did she become a chimera and why did she try to undo it all by herself?"

"The True Blood Alchemist had always been odd, but Rafe Landis was even more strange at the lab. Dorochet said he wasn't anything like he'd been before. Marissa seemed pretty normal. The group's focus was chimeras. I can only guess that Vera and Rafe maybe _were_ chimeras, too, like Shou Tucker. I think they finally turned Marissa into one of them."

"Why would they do that, though?" Ed exclaimed, shaking his head at the insanity of such an act. "What could they hope to gain?"

Martel looked away into the darkness for a long moment, then turned back to face Ed. Her expression was disturbing. Grim. "You gain a lot, becoming a chimera," she said. "Maybe more than you lose. If all you want is power."

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Winry had seen more blood than she liked to think about in her brief lifetime, and she thought Ed's surgery might have been worse than this, but Granny Pinako had been there. She hadn't been forced to face that alone.

The rest of Vera's ruined arm had been removed, the wound bound, the blood staunched, and the screams finally silenced. Vera was strong. She'd survived the nightmare amputation — though how she'd done it, Winry couldn't imagine — but her screams still rang in the girl's ears.

Rafe had dashed off into the darkness as soon as Vera passed out from the agony, and Winry hadn't seen him since. She supposed she might have been able to escape, but she couldn't leave Vera until she was sure the woman would survive the procedure. _He's probably watching from somewhere nearby, anyway._

She still couldn't figure out what exactly was off about Vera, but something was. It was more obvious, with Rafe. He'd had something done to him at some point. He wasn't exactly human anymore. She wondered if he was some kind of chimera, like Al's friend Martel.

As she wheeled Vera's gurney away from the gruesome, leftover mess of the surgery, she realized she felt more tired than she could remember having ever been before. _Not good. Need to stay awake and keep an eye on her... can't fall asleep..._

Vera still slept, but her breathing, though shallow, was even. Winry hoped she'd be okay. She didn't know if she could trust Rafe not to go crazy and kill her if anything happened to Vera — no matter what the woman had told him.

She rolled another gurney over next to Vera's and took one of the blankets Rafe had found. Wrapping herself up in it against the chill of the enormous room, she climbed onto the gurney and began her vigil.

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Ed didn't think he could face another fruitless interview in that sterile hospital room. Martel had drifted back into darkness some time ago, but he continued to stand in the alley, thinking.

This whole situation felt personal, but he couldn't understand why it would be personal. He had no connection with the Landises aside from Lab Five, and even then, he'd never met them. _Never even heard of them before this mess._

Lab Five had been suits of armor and Tucker and the homunculi and the prisoners and Scar... He'd thought everyone else had been gone from the building by that time, anyway. Where were these Landis alchemists in all that chaos? Why hadn't they made themselves known then or in the meantime, during all the disasters that followed Lab Five?

"Haunted," Ed muttered, rubbing his shoulder where automail met skin. Exhaustion buzzed in the back of his head and behind his eyes, and aches complained from his back and from his missing arm and leg. _Unfair that they show up when I'm this tired_.

"Fullmetal Alchemist," a voice whispered, sounding almost like a thought in his head.

Ed whirled toward the voice, but he moved too late. The memory of Mustang's warning was the last thing he remembered as the blow knocked him into blackness. _"Not good, Fullmetal..."_


	11. Confrontation

Winry had never seen anyone move so fast before in her life — especially not anyone who’d just had an arm removed — but before she could so much as blink, Vera had gained her feet and stood staring off into the darkness. A sound like a growl hummed almost too low to be heard. It was altogether the eeriest thing Winry had ever seen.

A figure moved toward them out of the darkness, the silhouette’s odd contours soon resolving into a new shape or two shapes. A large figure carrying a smaller one thrown over its shoulder.

_Damn it. Ed._

“Marcel,” Vera growled. “What are you doing?”

“Rafe said we needed him,” the man rumbled. He stopped right beside Winry and dumped Ed’s unconscious form next to her on the gurney. Ed’s right arm had been removed.

“And since when does Rafe lead the pack?” Vera demanded.

Rafe, as if summoned by the sound of his name, appeared out of the shadows from the opposite direction. The three began to argue more and more loudly, their voices becoming raspier and less human with every passing second until Winry couldn’t understand them at all. They circled each other, growling and snapping, in a sickening imitation of animal behavior.

“Ed?” Winry whispered, leaning over to examine the young man. She hoped he’d only been knocked out and that no worse injuries had been inflicted on him. 

“Hey,” he breathed, though his eyes were still closed and his voice was too faint to be heard by anyone but her. “If I said this was all a part of my cunning plan to rescue you, would you believe me?”

Winry felt a flash of heat followed by cold run across her skin as the relief surged through her veins. “Ed, are you okay?”

“Bastard took my arm and nearly knocked my head off, but otherwise... yeah, I’m fine.” He seemed to have to work to open his eyes, and they didn’t focus properly when he finally managed to look up at her. “Think I’m going to be sick,” he muttered, apologetic.

Winry helped him lean over the gurney’s edge while he coughed up the little he’d had to eat over the past many hours. His hair had come free of its braid and hung in a tangled mess around his shoulders. Even in the dim light, Winry could see the blood staining his neck, and as she smoothed his hair back from his face, his skin felt feverishly hot. She worried he’d been seriously hurt.

“Vera,” she said, her voice angry. “What’s going on? This wasn’t our deal.”

The woman turned from the argument she was having with the other two, and Winry’s eyes widened at the sight. Vera’s eyes were wild and red-rimmed, her teeth were bared, and her hair stood on end.

“Stay out of this,” she growled.

“They’re hyenas,” Ed said faintly. “All of them... a pack. And the females lead the pack, so I guess she’s in charge.”

“If she survives this fight,” Winry said. “Can you sit up?”

Ed nodded once then stopped, his eyes squeezing shut against some reaction to the movement. “Don’t try too hard, Ed,” Winry scolded. “You’re hurt.”

“No. We gotta get out of here,” he wheezed, letting Winry do most of the work of getting his body into a sitting position. He leaned heavily against her, his missing right arm making him feel weirdly lop-sided. 

He took a deep breath and seemed to regain some control. “This whole situation has gone on for who knows how long, but now it’s gone to hell. All three of them are alchemists. Marissa was an alchemist. They’re all hyena chimeras. And from what Martel said, they had to have done it to themselves.”

“They’re all crazy,” Winry whispered.

“We can’t trust them not to be,” Ed agreed.

Winry eased herself from the gurney, trying to be quiet. Once the floor was firmly beneath her feet, she helped Ed stand beside her.

The pack whirled as one, all three glaring and growling at Ed and Winry.

“Well, shit,” Ed muttered.

“Fullmetal...” Rafe rumbled. “Your fault.”

Ed rolled his eyes at this, leaned back against the gurney, and grabbed his right shoulder with his left hand, in an affectation of crossed arms. He was the picture of indifferent impatience.

“How,” he asked. “Is this _my_ fault?”

“They used to work out of Lab Five,” Winry explained.

“Oh,” Ed said, and nodded once. Then he frowned and glared back at the pack. “You weren’t there. Everyone was gone but Tucker and the prisoners.”

“All of our work. All of our research—” the second man, who Vera had called Marcel, began.

But Vera cut him off. “Shut up. Shut. Up. _Both of you_ have ruined everything. We were fine. Our work continued. No one even knew about us. But you couldn’t leave well enough alone. Marissa—”

Rafe went slack-jawed and his voice sounded like a dog’s yip. “She wouldn’t join us! We had no choice! The pack needed—”

“After everything she sacrificed for you, Rafe!” Vera shouted. “You killed her and nearly killed me in the process. You knew she couldn’t deal with it. But you were selfish—”

“I was lonely!” Rafe wailed. “She wouldn’t even let me touch her! I thought if we were both—”

“God, what a disaster,” Ed breathed. “It’s like watching a train wreck.”

“What’s going on?” Winry demanded.

Vera snapped at Rafe and Marcel, and they both retreated, whimpering. Winry’s stomach turned at the strangeness of it all. Their movements and actions were so off. So unnatural. They didn’t even seem properly animal.

“How did you save Rafe, Vera?” Ed asked. “Everyone thought he was dead.”

Vera crossed the room with a surprisingly firm stride for someone who’d so recently lost so much blood. The two stood regarding one another for a long moment, oddly balanced as both were short, blonde, and missing their right arms.

“Human alchemy, of course,” the woman said at last. “But I didn’t follow the same path as you, Fullmetal.”

“Let me guess,” Ed said, relaxing into his persona of know-it-all investigator. “He was badly injured, so you combined what was left of him with a conveniently nearby hyena? You must have already been working with chimeras to have even tried such a solution.”

Vera nodded, looking mildly impressed. “We were doing reconnaissance for the alchemists — assessing locations and angles of attack — on the outskirts of Ishbal. Then the hyenas attacked. An injured one remained, when it was all over. Together, between Rafe and hyena, there was enough life for one being. I didn’t have time to think about it. I just did what I had to do to save my little brother.”

Ed’s chin lifted in silent acknowledgement of an understandable motivation. “But now all this? I don’t understand.”

“Basque Gran found us moments later. He was so impressed by what I’d done that he—”

“Blackmailed you into working for him,” Ed guessed.

Vera’s left hand flipped out in a shrug, her fingers opening as if letting something go free. _Such as the truth,_ Winry thought.

“I was always too close to the edge of the correct uses of alchemy for my family’s comfort, anyway. I never wanted to accept any limitations. Alchemy’s just a tool — why not use it to achieve whatever your heart desires?”

Ed shook his head and leaned back more heavily against the gurney. Winry could feel his body trembling — with exhaustion or from pain or both... she didn’t know. But to all outward appearances, he was in control. “There’s always a price to pay, Vera,” he said as if he were the older of the two. “And equivalent exchange doesn’t always seem very equivalent.”

“Wise child,” the woman said. “I wish I’d have been so wise when I was your age.”

“I paid for this wisdom with an arm and leg.”

Vera nodded, as if putting a puzzle piece in place which finished the picture. “I see. Mine cost me my humanity.”

“Vera, he doesn’t need to know everything. He just—”

“Marcel, don’t you understand?” Vera said, turning to face the man. “It’s over. From the moment Marissa ran, it was over.”

Marcel slunk back into the shadows, his eyes glittering at them from the darkness, but Vera ignored him and returned to her story. “We couldn’t control Rafe. He was too animal. Marissa begged me to do something — find some way to fix things. Gran moved us to Central, to Lab Five. Set us up with anything we wanted or needed. So I asked for more hyenas.

“Marissa argued with me. Said there must be some way to fix him rather than turning ourselves into what he’d become. But she was foolish and scared. Every alchemist knows the components of a chimera are—”

“Inextricable,” Ed said, a catch in his voice. Winry knew he was thinking of Nina.

“He doesn’t seem too animal now,” Winry ventured. “What changed?”

Vera’s eyes flickered to Winry’s face before resettling on Ed’s. It was as if he were the only one in the room, and her eyes moved over his face with a calculation that frightened Winry, though she didn’t know why.

“We were careful with my transmutation, and I was able to still be myself. I was able to impose order, as pack leader. And with a pack leader to tell him what to do, Rafe calmed down. He regained some of his sense, his humanity, but he can’t do alchemy any more. He’s still the most animal of us all.

“Gran was thrilled. With the success of my transmutation, we were able to try more and more exotic combinations and give Gran what he wanted: Perfect soldiers.”

“I’ve met some of them,” Ed said. “Beautiful work, if that’s the kind of thing you want to do. I’ve never seen such perfect chimeras.” Winry could almost hear the following thought: _Nor do I ever want to again._

“But why did the Shooting Star Alchemist join your pack?” Ed pressed, he looked briefly into the darkness then back at Vera. “I mean, his specialty was munitions.” Marcel made a weird, growling noise from somewhere in the shadows.

Vera sniffed disdainfully. “Love,” she said. “Gave up everything for me, the fool. As if I could ever love someone as weak as him.”

Winry frowned, unsettled by this turn. Up until that moment, Vera had seemed almost reasonable: The devoted older sister, trapped into this life by her brother’s predicament. But something else was at play in her motivations. Something dangerous.

Ed’s next question showed Winry he was thinking the same things. “But you did it anyway, Vera. Turned him into one of your pack-mates. Why do that, if you thought so little of him?”

“The pack is everything, and we needed more. We needed more power, and he was an alchemist.” Vera’s eyes glittered. “We _need_ more.”

“But it’s over,” Ed countered. “You said so yourself.”

“Not necessarily,” Rafe rumbled as he walked up to stand beside Vera. “Just imagine, Fullmetal, having two arms again. Two legs — real ones. You can’t imagine what it feels like to be like this. Our eyes see more and our ears hear more than you can even dream of. Wouldn’t you like to be whole?”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Ed exclaimed. “Just a few minutes ago, you were blaming me for all of this, and now you want me to _join_ you?”

Rafe growled, shaking his head as if against a restraint, but all he said was, “Vera wants it. And whatever Vera wants, I want.”

“With you in our pack, I can be whole again, too,” Vera breathed.

“You’re already a chimera,” Ed said warily, turning his head sideways as if to avoid a blow he could see coming.

Vera’s eyes turned on Winry, and Ed gasped, taking a stumbling step forward to place himself between the True Blood Alchemist and his friend. “No. Fucking. Way,” he rasped.


	12. Resolutions

Vera’s eyes turned on Winry, and Ed gasped, taking a stumbling step forward to place himself between the True Blood Alchemist and his friend. “No. Fucking. Way,” he rasped.

Winry’s hand caught Ed’s shoulder as if she meant to hold him back from a fight. Ed nearly shook her off on reflex — though his head still whirled, and he really was having trouble standing — before he realized what she was really doing.

It seemed the strangest moment for him to notice how nice it was to feel the warmth of her breath on his neck.

“The gurney is steel. Can you transmute an arm?” she whispered, hiding behind his hair so that Vera couldn’t see her lips moving.

He lifted his chin ever so slightly in acknowledgement of this question.

“How much time would you need to draw a circle?”

Ed couldn’t answer her without giving their plan away. He’d have to find some way to work it into what he said to Vera.

“There is no fucking way I’m going to let you do anything to Winry,” Ed said. “And I would only need _one minute_ to take you apart if you tried.”

“Collapse,” Winry ordered, her voice so soft it seemed almost like a thought in his head.

“Fullmetal,” Vera said, far too sweetly. “She is of no use to us as a pack mate, and other females always want to fight for leadership. She’s far too dominant a personality for me to risk that, but there are other options as you well know—”

He’d heard enough of Vera’s plan to confirm his suspicion, and now was the time to act. Trying to make it look real, Ed let his head fall back and his eyes roll up. He trusted Winry to catch him as he went boneless, and she did, guiding him carefully over to the gurney where she draped him facedown onto its gleaming metal surface. A metallic clink, which anyone else would think was his leg banging into some part of the gurney, sounded by his hand. It was a surgical instrument of some kind and all he needed to etch his circle. With that was a coil of rubber tubing and a truly filthy, greasy rag. _Must have been the best she could do for oil_ , Ed thought, but he was mightily impressed. He’d never before realized what a head for strategy his automail mechanic had.

“Oh, Ed!” Winry exclaimed, throwing herself over him and howling with what probably seemed very convincing sobs — if someone didn’t know how Winry really cried.

“We’ll have to perform the transmutation very soon,” Vera snarled to her minions. “It seems Marcel has damaged him more than I’d hoped.”

Winry’s wailing was doing a good job of covering the sound of his scratching. He whispered back to her, hoping she could hear him over the noise, “Make sure you have something to defend yourself with. This is going to happen really fast.”

Vera had turned away from them to discuss plans with Rafe and Marcel who had oozed back out of the shadows at some point during Winry’s acting debut.

Ed shrugged slightly to catch Winry’s attention that he was done. “Get ready,” he whispered, and she took a step away so she wouldn’t be in physical contact with him when he activated the circle.

The blaze of crackling blue light caught the chimeras by surprise, but none of them had the ability to perform immediate transmutations and apparently hadn’t outfitted themselves with any shortcuts — or at least they didn’t have those shortcuts to hand.

The arm formed itself out of the spare parts in seconds and then Winry was there, supporting him and reaching out to take the weight of the arm as they both guided it into the port.

Ed choked out a gasp at the pain, but there was no time to allow himself to feel it. Vera was almost done with her circle and Rafe was charging at them, fangs bared.

Clapping his hands together felt weird — this arm was far too stiff and heavy — but it worked and the floor ripped itself up in front of Rafe, throwing him back across the room and into a bank of cabinets with a tremendous crash.

The floor’s destruction tore apart Vera’s circle, too, but Marcel — who had apparently been working on a circle, too, had his done. 

Ed grabbed Winry’s arm and dived backwards toward the nearest cabinet and away from the explosion as it tore even more of the massive room apart and threw equipment and building parts everywhere. As they dived, Ed transmuted the cabinet into a shield around them. It dented in as bits of ceiling, floor, and lab rained down on them.

Vera’s voice snarled, “Fool! You want to kill us all?”

Ed tried to climb out from under the shield but he fell back weakly. “Gotta keep going,” he gasped. “Can’t let them hurt—”

“Hush, Ed,” Winry said. “Listen.”

“Kill _you_ ,” an unearthly voice rumbled. “Only wanted to be with you. But you want _him_! Anyone but _me_!”

“It’s the good of the pack — you know that!” Vera’s voice had smoothed out, and it sounded as if she were trying to placate Marcel.

“Too late, Vera. It’s over, remember? It _is_ over. And I won’t let you start this up again with _him_ as your mate instead of me.”

“We have to get out of here,” Ed said. “He’s going to bring the building down.”

Winry nodded, just visible in the darkness of their flimsy shelter, and she helped Ed as they struggled free of the rubble.

The two chimeras seemed to have forgotten their victims. Vera was drawing another circle and Marcel was doing something to his. Rafe was nowhere to be seen which was probably the only reason Marcel was still alive.

“I should stop them,” Ed said, trying to walk but realizing Winry was half-carrying him.

“Yeah, Ed. You and what alchemist who isn’t about to pass out?” Winry said. They reached the door to the next room and slipped through, still apparently unnoticed. 

But they hadn’t been. “They’re getting away!” Vera shrieked and a flare of light blasted through the door. 

Winry shoved Ed away from the reaction, diving after him, but the flare caught her, flinging her across the room.

Vera appeared in the doorway, a dark form silhouetted against the lighter darkness of the room behind her. “It’s meant to be, Edward Elric,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. “I’ve waited so long for someone strong... someone worthy—”

“Cut the crap, Vera,” Ed snarled. “You dated Mustang! Wasn’t he good enough for you?”

“He’s weak. You didn’t know him before... He was pathetic at Ishbal. _Pathetic_. He _should_ have killed himself. But, you? You _never_ give up.”

“You’re right about that,” Ed said and brought his hands together, but another explosion tore through the building before he could begin his own transmutation, and Vera disappeared in a huge cloud of smoke and debris which blew through the door all around her. 

Ed scrambled across the filthy floor to Winry’s side, clapped again, and threw up a stone wall between them and the aftereffects of this new danger.

A string of swearing poured out of Ed’s mouth, making very little sense. A fact which Winry pointed out to him in a faint voice a moment later. “What exactly is a ‘fucking insane crazy lunatic?’”

“Are you okay?” he demanded, reaching out to brush her hair from her face. Even in all this chaos, he noticed that her skin was very soft.

“Depends,” she grunted, sitting up carefully, a hand feeling at the back of her head. “Am I bleeding?”

Ed inspected her as best he could under the circumstances. “Don’t seem to be.”

“Well, then, are they done trying to kill each other yet?” 

Another loud boom answered that question in the negative.

“Shit,” Ed muttered. “You’d think someone would hear. It’d be really great if someone would rescue us right about now.”

Winry actually laughed at that, the sound draining away the tension from Ed’s shoulders. “Is it always like this?” she asked, still laughing.

Ed opened his mouth to deny it then closed it and sighed. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wow,” Winry said. She stood up slowly as if testing her legs then reached down to help Ed stand beside her. “I guess it’s no wonder you keep breaking your automail.”

A low growl was their only warning before Rafe launched himself at them having come around the protective wall. Ed moved to clap his hands but Rafe was too fast and had aimed himself at the young man’s chest. The full weight of the chimera landed on him and drove him back onto the ground, banging his head into the concrete and turning his vision gray.

 _No! Winry!_ the thoughts shouted through his brain, but he couldn’t find a way to fight back to full consciousness. He couldn’t find the strength to even move. The growling didn’t stop, sounding horrible and terrifying, and it was joined far too quickly by a sickening crunch and a scream.

Despair washed over Ed as his mind supplied images to go with the sounds he was helpless to do anything about. _Not Winry! Please, not Winry! Why do I always fail—_

“Ed,” Winry said, her hands grabbing his shoulders. “God, Ed! Please be okay!”

He tried to speak, to move, to do _something_ to express the joy the mere sound of her voice had created in him, but his body simply would not cooperate. It seemed, too, that his fear for Winry had been the only thing keeping Ed anywhere near consciousness, because the sound of her voice calling his name was the last thing he heard before darkness claimed him.

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Winry struggled to her feet. Ed was still breathing — that was something — but if she didn’t get help, neither of them were likely to last much longer.

She felt sick and weak and half-conscious herself. She’d hit her head, too, when she’d been thrown. There didn’t seem to be any blood, but the back of her head felt hot and throbbed horribly.

Rafe Landis lay in a bloody heap far too nearby for her comfort, making a gargling sound when he breathed that made her feel ill, and she grabbed him by one foot and dragged him away from Ed. She had never hit anyone as hard as she’d hit the chimera, using a club-like piece of rubble she’d grabbed up as Ed had been tackled. 

She thought Rafe might be dying, and if that meant she’d killed him, she was sad. But she wasn’t sorry. He’d tried to kill Ed. She couldn’t stand by and let that happen.

No explosions had rocked the building for some time, and she wondered if Vera and Marcel had managed to kill each other in the last blast.

“I have to find help,” she told herself, but the room whirled drunkenly around her, refusing to stay still and allow her to take even two steps toward the door that led outside.

Something rumbled and she dropped to the floor and huddled over Ed, praying it wasn’t another explosion. She was not going to let the ceiling fall onto Ed. _Nothing else_ was going to happen to him because she’d let herself get kidnapped.

A huge train wreck of sound roared out from the next room and everything shook as if in an earthquake. The floor rumbled beneath her, and Ed’s wall shook and finally toppled over — away from them, luckily. Winry could only stare, stunned as it crashed to the ground and broke into pieces. The door beyond was gone, buried in rubble, but the noise went on.

Voices sounded, then, from the opposite direction. “This way!” a wonderfully familiar voice shouted.

“Careful, Lt. Colonel!” another well-known voice ordered. “You know what happens when Fullmetal gets angry.”

Winry tried to shout but all that came out was a hoarse rasp. “Over here!”

Riza Hawkeye appeared through the door, pistols at the ready, and she was followed almost immediately by Roy Mustang who also seemed to have his weapon drawn, fingers poised to snap. Winry had never before been so happy to see either of them. More uniforms filed in almost immediately thereafter, but Winry didn’t notice much more. She and Ed were rescued, and her body took this as permission to finally pass out.

\- - - - - - - - - 

The first person Ed saw when he woke up was Alphonse. 

“Niisan!” the young man exclaimed. “You’re awake!” 

Ed grinned slowly. “See what happens when you aren’t around?”

“Right,” Al said, snorting. “Like this never happened when I _was_!”

A slow blink clarified his memories a little, and he blurted, “Where’s Winry? She okay?”

Al waved his hands calmingly. “She’s fine. She’s just next door. The doctors won’t let either of you out of bed, though. I’m going to go tell her you’re awake. She’s been really worried since she woke up this morning.”

As his brother vanished through the door, a doctor came in, accompanied by Mustang and Hawkeye.

“You’ve looked worse, Fullmetal,” Mustang commented. “But the lengths you go to just to get out of doing paperwork never cease to amaze me.”

“Bastard,” Ed muttered as the doctor checked him over. All the little tests and proddings and pokings were so familiar, Ed almost didn’t notice them. “I solved the damn case, by the way.”

Mustang and Hawkeye exchanged one of their silent-talking looks before Mustang gave a small bow and said, “I do look forward to reading your report,” and exited. A short time later, the doctor left, too.

“So, Edward,” Hawkeye said once they were alone. “You are aware that not all cases need end in hospital stays, aren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes then regretted it as his head spun. He tried to steady himself with another protracted blink then opened his eyes slowly and looked at his commanding officer. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“We found the Shooting Star Alchemist and the Green Alchemist at the scene,” she added, almost casually. “Which is odd because the Green Alchemist was supposed to be dead already.”

“Is he dead now?” Ed asked. _Did Winry kill him?_

“He died after we got there. Part of the ceiling fell on him. There was nothing we could do.”

Ed shrugged but was glad it hadn’t been Winry. It would have upset her to have killed someone.

“You didn’t find anyone else?” Ed asked

Hawkeye shook her head. “They’re still digging. What the hell was that place?”

“Another Lab Five, I guess. Crazy.”

Winry wheeled into the room at that moment, a blushing Alphonse pushing her chair. “She insisted,” he said. “And she is still sitting down.”

Hawkeye and Ed exchanged amused glances but said nothing.

“Hey, Winry,” Ed said, and for some reason, he found he was blushing, too.

“Hi, Ed,” she replied. As Winry’s cheeks turned a brilliant pink, it was Hawkeye’s turn to roll her eyes.

“We’ll talk more later, Fullmetal,” she said and made a quick exit.

“Thank you!” Ed exclaimed, dropping back into his pillows. “They don’t give a guy a minute to even wake up properly.”

“They didn’t find Vera,” Winry said.

Ed blew out a breath and said, “Yeah. If one of ‘em was going to get away, why did it have to be her?”

“Maybe she’s just buried deeper?” Alphonse ventured.

“You know the rule, Al,” Ed said, and the three of them chorused, “No body means not dead.”

The blushes all faded as the three of them smiled at the perfect synchronicity of the moment. Then Al said, “I’m going to go see if you can have coffee,” and darted out the door.

Winry and Ed both shot sideways glances at each other, but Ed spoke first. “That was... random.”

But Winry didn’t want to make jokes. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Ed. I was really worried.”

“ _You_ were worried?” Ed said. “I could hear him growling and that awful crunch and you screamed—”

“It _was_ an awful crunch,” Winry agreed. “I’d never hit anyone that hard before. It was _horrible_. But I had to stop him — he was still trying to get to you!”

“You were great, Winry,” Ed said, reaching his flesh hand out to her as he wondered fleetingly if they’d found his arm in the rubble, too. 

Winry grasped his hand in both of hers, smiling one of those barely-suppressed-tears smiles he both loved and hated to see. “I mean it. You were amazing.”

“So were you,” she said. “Vera was right about that. You never give up. I love that about you.”

Ed snorted and broke the too-intense eye contact. “You heard that?”

“Yeah. I was dazed but I could kind of follow what was happening. I can’t fault her for taste, even if...” Winry’s voice trailed off and she let go of his hand to wrap herself in her arms, suppressing a shudder.

“Ew,” Ed said, waving away the thought with his hand. “She’s older than Mustang!”

“Not to mention, she’s a hyena!” Winry added and started to laugh.

“And only has one arm,” Ed added, laughing, too.

“I can fix that, though,” Winry said, pulling a serious face. “If you want me to. For the wedding.”

“Shut up!”

Al came back in then, carrying coffees which he handed out. He took his and settled at the end of Ed’s bed, and they all talked until the nurse came in a shooed Al out and wheeled Winry back to her own room, flicking the lights off as she left and ordering Edward to go to sleep.

Ed rolled over and stared out the window at the darkened city beyond the far-too-familiar walls. He knew he’d missed a moment when he could have told Winry the truth about how he felt, but he didn’t want to tell her in a hospital. He didn’t want to tell her in any place tainted by the fear they’d both experienced thanks to Vera Landis and her mad plans. He hoped Winry hadn’t sensed the missed opportunity as he had. He hoped his silence hadn’t hurt her.

He hoped, too, that Winry never asked him what Vera meant to do to her.

“If I ever see her again, I’ll kill her,” he breathed, knowing he meant it. To dare to even think of doing such a thing was bad enough; to think of doing it to Winry was unforgivable.

In the meantime, he now knew what he wanted to research. Deep down, he’d never believed chimeras had to be irreversible. _There has to be a way to change them back. There should be a way._

He wouldn’t tell Al, not until he had more than just his instinct to go on, but he was going to figure this out. He was going to fix it so people like Martel didn’t have to live half-lives and kids like Nina didn’t have to die. He was going to figure it out. And he would never give up.

Because Vera Landis was out there, and she had dared to look at Winry as if she were spare parts — someone who could be combined into the woman’s already corrupted, chimera’s body, to fix her ruined arm. To make her whole.

Ed shuddered at the memory of that moment of pure understanding. That moment couldn’t be in his mind when he told Winry how he felt. He’d find a better place. A better moment.

Because he did want to tell her he loved her. He wanted to tell her soon.

“Just not tonight,” he whispered.


End file.
